The Riddle of his Being
by Albion19
Summary: During Wendy's hundred year stay in Neverland she experiences many things. Travels to other worlds, reigns like a queen and endures love and loss. As the Darlings attempt to rescue her Wendy will struggle with her relationship with Peter as she uncovers the riddle of his being. Sequel to A Very Sweet Subject.
1. Prologue: 1945

On the 2nd of June, 1940 John Darling died on the beaches of Dunkirk. He was thirty five years old, leaving behind no wife or children. Only one relative remained, his brother Michael Darling. He was the youngest member of the Darling clan but in the span of two decades he found himself the eldest and alone.

He had fought in the war, of course, and returned home with a medal. Any wounds he had you could not see them, unless you stared too long into his eyes but then that haunted stare had always been there. He was small, quiet and you would be mistaken for thinking him defeated but you would be wrong. He had been fighting long before Germany had invaded Poland, he was a soldier in a war that no one but a select few knew about. So secret that they did not even have a name, though the members had taken to calling it the Home Office, as it operated out of the office in number 14 Bloomsbury Square, Michael's reclaimed home. It had been John's idea, his labour of love but now that he was gone it fell to Michael to take over and he did so with a steely albeit tired resolve. Though his family were either dead or missing he was not alone because every member had all been affected in some way by the same person: Peter Pan.

The Lost Boys who had been stranded in London had grown up. Some had drifted out of his life, leading their own lives and cutting all ties to the island that they used to call home. He could understand their unwillingness to help. Though they looked no older then he did most of them were very old indeed and that was a weight all on it's own. The Home Office was a reminder of the truth but there were some that did want to join the cause and fight. It was the Home Office's mission to destroy Pan and, if fate was on his side, rescue his sister. It had taken him almost twenty years but soon the plan would swing into motion and everything that his family had suffered would be put right.

Sometimes he even believed that.

* * *

On the day that Wendy disappeared for the final time and his parents died something peculiar happened but you would find no record of it now. On a road near Great Ormond Street people had walked into a fog and never returned, his sister being one of them. He and John had ventured there not long after, looking for a sign of what had happened and it was there that they noticed two odd women. They had been moving slowly, heads bent, clearly searching for something and every now and then they would swoop down and snatch something up from the ground.

Michael, then so young and not fully comprehending the loss that his family had suffered, had been drawn to these strange women and asked them innocently what they were doing.

"Picking beans dear," they answered and Michael peered into a draw string bag to find it full of colourful, glittering beans. He thought they were sweets and held out his hand, which made the women laugh. John had come over, angry that something like laughter could be sounded in his grief stunned presence.

"Come away Michael, they're not for eating."

"He's right, of course. We're sorry about your mother and father. For your sister too my poppets," the eldest sister said and the brothers froze.

"Yes, we did warn her. She's with him now," the other sister said, toeing something on the ground and was clearly disappointed that it was just a cork. She picked it up anyway.

John blinked at the spinsters, hardly daring to believe it. They had thought that Wendy had died along with their parents, though her body had never been recovered.

"She – she's with Pan?" he asked, the name on his tongue like a curse.

"So far as we saw. Shame it couldn't have worked out for the better. Such sweet babes..." the youngest sister sighed, losing focus and Michael shook his head, confused. The sisters moved off and the brothers, their aunt preoccupied while talking to well wishers, followed them. Or rather John followed and dragged Michael along.

"Wait! You have to help us!"

"We will but not yet. Come and see us when you're older," they finished together, waving at them before they disappeared down an alley, becoming lost in the throng. Their aunt called them back, shrill voice panicking and they had reluctantly returned.

* * *

That had been over twenty years ago and during that time John and Michael were to have many dealings with the sisters. They did not have anything magical to trade but they were soon to find that hard to secure goods were just as sought after by the spinsters, if not more so.

"Darjeeling?" Edith asked hopefully and Michael, now far older and wiser, nodded. The war was finally over but they all felt the sting of rationing.

"And Garibaldis," he said, taking a seat at a small table as he offered the pack of biscuits to the sisters. They almost looked close to tears. As he did he realised that the place looked more sparse then usual, though the spinning wheels were still pride of place. "Been selling things?"

"Moving dear," they said, taking a biscuit each before Agnes opened a jar and took a pinch of something easily mistaken for sugar. After the Lost Boys had attacked a large quantity of inert beans had been left behind and the sisters had been quick to collect them. They did not use them to travel but grounded them up, a feat of which he still did not know how they accomplished without blowing themselves up.

"But you've always been here," he said, feeling a stab of sadness. They had been a strange, constant presence at the edge of his life for so long now that the thought of them leaving was a throbbing pain. Aside from his aunt they were as close to family as they could be.

"Yes, to a nice place in America called Maine but not quite yet. We've got so much rubbish cluttering the place that we thought we'd get a head start. Now then."

"On to business," Edith finished, rubbing her hands and sitting up. "We know why you're here."

"You want to rescue your sibling,"

"But the beans will not help you to that end," Edith said, eyes loosing focus as the bean dust in her tea took effect. "You'll need to find another to help you and we've finally been able to pin point him. He's a slippery one to catch."

"Yes and we're sorry in advance," Agnes said in bemusement. She reached for a small pouch hanging from her belt and handed it over to him. Michael felt beans inside, sliding and clicking together and he handled them gently.

"Thank you. Who am I meeting? Where?" he asked, rising from his seat.

"We'll show you the way," they said and stood, motioning for him to follow them. They lead him through a narrow corridor, walls lined with priceless books, and out through a door that lead to a small back garden that looked like it had not been tended to for a few centuries.

The spinsters stood shoulder to shoulder as a bean was thrown and a portal whirled into being, making the ivy clad walls and weed choked grass shine and sway in the sudden wind. Michael inhaled, readying himself. It had been years in the making but finally it was about to begin. He would succeed or die trying.

"You'll be needing this," Edith said and handed him a large sack. Coins clinked and by the weight clearly contained a small fortune. "He'll be wanting payment."

"Biscuits will not suffice, I suppose?" Michael dead paned and the sisters smiled.

"He does like tea, so he's not all bad."

"Absolute rogue though, pinched my favourite snuff box, so keep your wits and valuables about you," Edith warned seriously and Michael nodded. Not for the first time he wondered how his life had become so strange and yet be content with it. It was the real world that seemed unreal to him now.

"Goodbye ladies and thank you for everything. You've given my life purpose and now, if I succeed, everything I've been fighting for will be for something."

"Good luck dear."

"And may the gods be with you."

They watched him, tears in their eyes as he jumped into the portal and vanished. When the garden was dark and still they sighed sadly, looking at each other.

"What a cursed life we lead sometimes. Poor little man, such a long journey ahead," Edith said sadly and Agnes nodded, dabbing at her eyes.

"But he will succeed, in the end, that's what matters. Come on dear, the tea's getting cold."

Arm in arm they moved back into their deceptively small home and shut the door.

* * *

Michael landed in a heap in another world and sat up, groaning. Travelling by bean was never something he would get used to. He stared around, taking in his surroundings. He appeared to be in a large circular room and what a room it was! Along the walls were all manner of doors, all of different shapes and styles. He picked himself up from the black, shiny floor, taking in the gold swirling pattens there when someone walked leisurely through one of the doors. A young handsome man clad in a long black coat froze, staring at Michael as if he were seeing a ghost. It only took one glance at him to know why Agnes had called him roguish. There was a devil may care air around him.

"What are you doing in my hat?!" he asked suddenly, shock gone. He looked deeply peeved and ran a hand through his messy hair.

"Your what?" Michael shook his head, confused but the sisters had said they would lead him to a person who could help and they were hardly ever wrong. "I'm here, in whatever this place is, to ask for your assistance."

"Really?" he asked, crossing his arms and Michael saw that a tiny golden goose was poking out of the man's coat pocket. Wondering if he had finally cracked he looked back at the man and nodded.

"Yes. I need your help in rescuing someone and I will pay you for your trouble," he said and waved the sack of gold. The man's eyes followed the swing of the bag hungrily and the little bird in his pocket shifted. Michael thought it was asleep.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Michael Darling. The spinsters told me that you could help. I take it you can travel to other worlds? Travel in time?"

At the mention of the sisters the man's eyes narrowed and then he laughed, something giddy and slightly insane in his eyes. There was something about him that reminded Michael uncomfortably of Pan. He strolled over and took a peek into the sack full of money and Michael was pleased to see his cocky grin drop as he picked out a coin and stared at it in amazement as he absent-mindedly patted his coat pocket gently.

"...Sure, I'll help you. Name's Jefferson," he said dazedly, eyes fixed on the coin until Michael plucked it out of his fingers.

"You'll get everything once you've helped me," he said as Jefferson pouted and sighed, bored.

"Okay, where do you want to go?" he fluttered a hand at the numerous doors and Michael searched carefully.

"Is there a door here that leads to Neverland?"

"Of course!" he boasted, pointing. The door was not a door but a window and it was one almost exactly like the one back in his old nursery. The man shifted uncomfortably. "Though I don't go there if I can help it. That whole_ Lord of the Flies_ set up is not my thing," he said with distaste. Michael, no idea what he was talking about, showed him a bean.

"Good but first you'll need to come with me," he said firmly and Jefferson shrugged, eyeing the bag of coins. The small goose gave a tiny honk and went back to sleep.

"You're the boss. So who are we rescuing?"

"My brother, John Darling."

Over the years Michael had tried to rescue Wendy from Neverland using the portal beans but every time he had been spat back into his own world. Pan had barred the way but there were other paths in. He had that window now and he could walk through it but not yet. John had died five years ago, saving the life of a comrade and in the process lost his life. It was a noble death and Michael knew he should accept it but he could not. The sisters had told him that meddling with time could have awful consequences but he was willing to pay them. He and John had promised that no matter how long it took them they would rescue Wendy and Michael was not going to break that promise. He would save his brother and then together they would save Wendy but not before Pan laid dead at their feet.

* * *

"No peeking," she warned, her soft hands over his eyes. He was almost a foot taller then her so she had to stand on a bench that cut the room in half. On the way she had clung to his back, which he had taken advantage of. After he had finally stopped spinning around and running she had guided him to the correct place and now he waited impatiently.

"Is it Hook? Has he finally died from liver failure?" he asked excitedly and Wendy rolled her eyes and removed her hands. She stayed behind him, leaning against his back and waited in awful anticipation as he looked around.

They were standing in an exact replica of an exhibition room they had visited once, at The National Gallery. Ever since she could remember she had dreamed of having the entire gallery to herself, with no one else there. Now she has and she was secretly very pleased with herself. She had worked hard to make it into a reality, along with other things. She jumped down from the bench and moved to his side as he stared up at the vaulted ceiling and looked suitably and genuinely amazed.

"Remarkable," he breathed and stared at her until she felt a little shy. "You're getting good at this, too good. It's not an island but still..."

"Jealous," she retorted smartly and he smirked. It was really only during times like these, when they were alone, that Wendy felt the most content and yet she had decided to work so hard on constructing something that belonged to her past and she could not deny that something wistful was constantly sitting in her chest. She missed it but people always did about things they could never see again. She noticed that Peter was staring at a painting, a wicked gleam entering his eyes before he gazed at Wendy sweetly.

"Please?" he begged and Wendy shook her head.

"Certainly not. I've just spent goodness knows who long making this. It's not just this room you know, it's everything I remember and everything I've seen in dreams," the Dream Caves had been irreplaceable and her one and only route off the island without actually leaving.

"I'll put everything back," he promised, gazing at her with large eyes and she sighed as an axe appeared in his hand. "Come on, live a little."

"Fine but only this once!" she said as he grinned at her and without further prompt swung his axe at the nearest painting and destroyed it. Wendy watched, exhilarated but had to fight down a queasy feeling and then almost laughed. It was a response that she had been living with for over twenty years now but the sick feeling in her stomach had lessened as the years went on. She only had to let go but that would mean giving up and she would not. However she had learned that her life progressed much more smoothly in Neverland if she threw most of her cares to the wind and had fun. Luckily her favourite plaything was right in front of her.

As Peter tugged his axe out of a painting by Rembrandt he jerked back as an arrow thudded next to his head. He looked up, seeing Wendy with her bow drawn and watched in amusement as she laughed and ran. With an aroused look he gave chase, knowing that she could lose him easily but she was always just within catching distance.

He was going to have all sorts of fun when he captured her.

* * *

**_a.n:_**

_Some fluffy destruction to round it off._

_So here is the sequel! I hope you guys will be along for the ride. I plan to have a chapter dedicated to one decade in Neverland, starting with the first ten years and so on until I've covered 100 years. It may change as I go on but we'll see what happens. Also this is going to be more mature, hence the M rating.  
_

_I thought it was interesting that the actor that plays Michael is actually a decade older then the guy who plays John and I wanted to play with that timey wimey-ness. Hope you liked the surprise guest, I love me some Hatter ;)_


	2. 1920

She woke gasping for breath, shaking and sweating. It was a recurring nightmare, one filled with fire, dust and collapsing walls and it always left her shaken and low for the rest of the day. She sat up, heart thumping and pinched her nose. It was stuffed with a cloying acridness, something that stuck to the back of her throat, making her cough and her eyes water.

"It's not real," she breathed and gave a strange half smile before she threw the covers back and got out of bed. It was something she could almost believe was just nonsense, a nightmare conjured up from something she had heard but she knew better. It _had_ been real, though she had not been there to witness it.

_My parents...that's likely how they died_, she thought with the detached air of someone objectifying death, like a Lepidopterist with butterflies. She could only take glimpses, let her mind hover over the truth for a moment before something painful in her rose up, something terrifying in it's scale. No one could suppress loss forever, not even with magic, and so grief plagued her in dreams, it's only true outlet.

_As it does Peter...and if he still shakes in his sleep after centuries what hope do I have?_

Aside from her concern and sympathy to his secret suffering she was deeply curious and also relieved. Pain, fright and sadness were feelings that seemed removed from Peter and it was something that he pretended was the truth. Loss and grief were human concerns, things that should not touch him but she knew they did and that was oddly wonderful. If he could feel scared and be wrecked by tragedy, as she suspected he had been, then there was hope for other emotions to surface.

However all this was mere speculation because Peter could not remember what troubled him at night and if he did he was not willing to share it. She needed to know, needed to peel back and expose everything about him, everything that was hidden and vulnerable until he stood completely unmasked before her. It was a shameful desire, a prying, sneaking want that she usually detested in others but she could not deny that her sense of curiosity overshot her shame. He knew just about everything about her, why should she be denied the same?

Thoughts crowding her mind she stepped around the screen in the cave where her old bed was, nose still lingering with the smell of smoke and froze. The stage lace curtains that framed her bed were on fire.

"Oh my god!"

She was stuck to the spot, watching the flames climbing and turning her pretty lace netting to ash within seconds. She had never made something a reality without thinking about it before, she always had to concentrate but it seemed that her nightmare, one that she had experienced so often, had escaped her mind and spread like gas. Thinking that it was real had been the spark.

"Stop! Stop!" she demanded, scared that it would spread or spring up like spores over the island and that made her heart race at the prospect. Peter could laugh in the face of destruction but she didn't think he'd take the ruin of his precious island with good grace. Wendy calmed her breathing, adopting the same detached approach she had given the nightmare and stared at the fire as the bed cover started to smoulder. She disbelieved it into submission until the fire was out, leaving behind the smoky ruins of the make shift bedroom. She sighed.

"At least I don't sleep in here any more."

On the way down the bamboo ladder she pretended the room was back to normal with an afterthought and began her usual walk to Peter's camp, her mind preoccupied as birds sang and the jungle whirred and hummed around her.

* * *

It had been a few years since she almost died and had to stay on the island to survive. Peter told her that it was now 1920 in her world but it did not feel that only three years had passed. It felt so much longer and yet she did not feel the strain of that time. She knew it was mostly down to Peter, he could do something where you experienced time like a playful child could: it lasted forever but you were hardly ever bored, always preoccupied with something that he had created. However some of those games were not something that Wendy agreed with and never would.

"Keep still," Felix warned, crossbow wavering as he took aim. A boy, looking no more then eight, was against a tree with an apple balanced on his head. He was deathly scared by trying not to show it.

"Don't worry if he misses. I've always wanted someone on my team with one eye," Peter said with a horrible grin as Wendy came into view. She took one look at the quivering boy and sighed.

"Not this again," she marched forward, grabbed the apple and pulled the boy away as Felix and Peter moaned in annoyance.

"Come on, stop spoiling all our fun! I stopped serving them made up food, don't take this from me too," Peter complained as Wendy bit into the apple, eyes fixed on his.

"I don't know why you go to such lengths to bring these boys here only to torment them."

"Because it's fun!" Peter cried out in exasperation. It was something he had defended many times. "Come on, I think he'd look quite fetching with an eye patch."

Wendy rolled her eyes and told the small boy to go back to his tent. She watched him run back as Peter moved close her, looking a little confused. He leaned down and trailed his fingers through her hair.

"You smell like smoke."

"That's of no concern," she said, deflecting the observation. "You can defend what you do as tradition, that's all fun and no harm no foul but we both know that's not true. If you're so set on recruiting again then at least consider what I've said. Pick boys who want to be here, not just ones that are failed attempts at getting the boy."

_The boy_, she had started objectifying him some time ago now, it made it easier. Peter had shown her the drawing he had of him but Wendy had looked away, not wanting to put a face to the sacrificial heart.

"Well I'm almost certain when I'll find him now, so I'm not going to make those mistakes again. I chose boys who are willing to fight, to shed blood if they have to because the time will come when we'll have to battle."

He had been informed over the years, gathered from many sources, of what the future would have in store for Neverland and this was something he had learned early on. People would come, _adults_, and he would have to be very smart indeed to beat them. He needed warriors, not soft hearted boys who still wanted their mothers.

"Yes, well I have been on the receiving end of boys who could only fight," Wendy smiled with no warmth and showed him her arm. It was barely noticeable and could be mistaken for a tiny smudge of ink but it was poison, trapped from spreading through her blood. The angry resistance on Peter's face slowly fell as he touched the old wound gently.

"I won't let anyone touch you, I promise."

"Then chose wisely," she requested softly and he gazed at her deeply before nodding. His fingertips grazed along her arm until he took her hand.

"Then help me."

* * *

The Dream Caves were near to her own part of the island and she suspected that was why her dreams were so vivid and easily escapable. She had been in the caves before but had not been able to use them to there full advantage. She had wanted to learn but Peter had been hesitant and she knew it was for multiple reasons. Here she had access to every mind, in every world and that included her brothers. But her hope to speak to them had been dashed but surprisingly not by Peter.

"I've tried to bring them here while they dreamed, to explain, but something is still blocking me," Peter said as he lead her through the curtain of vines that hid the entrance to the caves. He sounded more curious then peeved but Wendy was still deeply disappointed, She could not think about her parents without the threat of cracking like an egg but her brothers were a shining, pure love that tethered her heart back to home. It hurt and she missed them but they were alive and not forced into an unnatural youth for an eternity.

_Not that I'll live that long_, she thought quickly. Though Peter was hundreds of years old living for that length of time was so difficult to grasp that she looked on her immortality almost with a sense of disbelief, as if one day she would wake up and then grow up as was proper and expected. It was still very perverse to her but Peter said she would have to start viewing time differently now, like he does.

If she did have an undefinable span of time ahead and have nowhere else to go then she may as well get started on governing the Dream Caves. She had already proved that she had quite a formidable control over the mandible reality of Neverland and she was prepared to focus on this task with the same resolve. If she could limit the damage, help bring boys who truly needed to be rescued and wanted to stay with them then she would. It was a challenge and as he lead her into a cavern with a hammock she promised that she would find the most perfect Lost Boy possible. It was a decision that she regretted for years to come.

"Ladies first," Peter motioned to the hammock, one conveniently large enough for two, and Wendy's mouth pursed. She did not share his bed, not in the way he wanted because she was not ready. Though she had been separated from her own world for some years now there was still a snag of doubt and shame that hindered her attempts to be fully committed. Her parents were dead and their opinion should not matter but she felt like she would be disappointing them somehow. They had died thinking that she had been ruined and promiscuous and there was noway now to change that. So she fashioned her own bedroom and kept the door locked but she hoped one day to let him in, when it felt right. However she did not deny herself the opportunity to partake in all intimacies and so climbed up and grabbed onto him when he flung himself down beside her. Swinging together he pulled her close and Wendy laid her head on his chest. Playing with her hair he hummed a tune, something she did not recognise and she looked up at him quizzically.

"What's that?"

"I'll show you, once you're asleep."

"What will happen?" she had only been able to sleep and dream but nothing more. Peter could have helped her but he would not until now. She wondered what he was frightened of? Was he concerned that she would become better at it then he was? He was conceited enough to be jealous but she realised that wasn't it. The real reason was that he didn't want to share her with anyone, not even in dreams.

"It will be dark. If you get there first just wait for me," he said and closed his eyes. His ability to fall asleep anywhere and at any time was impressive, especially as he avoided the need whenever he could. Wendy listened to his breathing deepening and level out as the rocking motion of the bed lulled her into sleep.

* * *

She opened her eyes and stared into a perfect pitch blackness. Neverland was occasionally dark, the weather had improved tremendously, but this was a darkness that she had seen only once. It was like staring into the abyss in the Echo Cave but at least that place had a way in and out. This was just never ending, up and down and side to side there was just nothing. Wendy closed her eyes and willed herself to wake up. Wherever she was she seemed to have a corporal body and she realised that she was half in, half out of some kind of doorway. An elaborate frame scrawled around her.

"A mirror?"

"Yes," Peter answered suddenly as he appeared at her side. Wendy jumped, almost slipping but he grabbed her hand and kept her by his side.

"What is this place? It's so dark and vast," she said and Peter cocked his head.

"It's the place where dreams are formed. It has to hold every mind in existence, every world...so it's without end."

As Wendy's eyes became accustomed to the dark she realised that far, far below were tiny pin pricks of light, like stars and as she watched even more appeared. Soon there was a cluster of glittering light, like the Milky Way was being viewed from above rather than below. Wendy's unease vanished as she stared, awestruck. It was beautiful.

"Are you doing that?"

"You can call the mind of certain dreamers out of the dark. These are the orphans, the neglected and unloved," he said with no feeling but Wendy felt like she had been hit in the gut. There was so many, too many.

"How do we get to them?" she asked seriously, now fired with the need to help change the fate of some wretched soul down there. If she could do some good, make a difference in her present state then she would. Neverland did not have to be a place of perpetual stagnation and cruel games, it could be better. It could be a haven to those that needed it. She knew Peter would fight her on it, mock her sentimental nature but she would do her best to make those changes.

"Come on," Peter said and leaned forward, tipping his body into the dark and Wendy gasped, pulling back.

"What are you doing?"

"We have to fall," he explained, back by her side. He smiled at her fright and she knew he had been anticipating this. He was probably enjoying it.

"But it's such a long way down," she peered again, feeling the onset of vertigo as Peter squeezed her hand.

"You can wait here if you want but I know you'll be disappointed if you don't help. It will be fine, trust me," he said softly and Wendy blinked.

She loved him but it was not a love that came easy. He was a cruel, manipulating person that plotted and schemed and just happened to think of her as his own with a deep seeded possessiveness. He did love her, in the only way he could but she could not blind herself to the truth. She could not trust him completely and it caused her a deep regret because she knew that in another life it could have been so different. But trust could only be gained through sacrifice and faith and so she nodded and inhaled, readying herself.

"Okay but don't let go," she requested and he kissed the back of her hand swiftly before pulling them over the edge before she could change her mind. She screamed but her shrieks soon turned into laughter as they fell. She had thought they would plummet down at sickening speeds but they swooped and soared though the air like feathers, caught on air currents that she could not feel.

"Told you it was fine!" he shouted smugly and Wendy wrinkled her nose but then giggled when her stomach rose and fell pleasantly, her body buffeted on a wave she could not see. It was exhilarating but Wendy reminded herself why she was there and tried to adapt a more sombre expression. Peter landed suddenly, grinning and Wendy touched down beside him. She had not realised that there was anything to land on but there was something solid under her feet, as if she was walking on glass. Below she could see more lights, more dreamers but they were of no interest to Peter.

"Can you pull anyone to Neverland or only children?"

"You can bring adults but they're usually...insubstantial," he explained, rummaging for the right word. "They have to believe."

Wendy nodded, trailing behind as he lead her to the dreamers. She had thought there were stars but she realised that they were approaching a huge cluster of mirrors. Some of the mirrors stood alone but others were in groups, strands of something silky webbing them together. Wendy pointed.

"These dreamers are close to each other, maybe a family," she said, thinking of the time Felix had accidentally brought her and her dreaming brothers to Neverland as they all slept.

"Well spotted. It takes time to extract the mind that you want if they're in a clump. Okay then Wendy-bird, seeing as it's your first time you get to pick," he said, flourishing his arm for her to go ahead. Wendy hesitated, nervous.

"What do I do?"

"Just think of who you want, your _perfect_ Lost Boy," he answered, imitating her promise and Wendy gave him a heavy lidded stare. She'd show him. She squared her shoulders and began walking, Peter hovering some distance behind in case she got lost. As she moved along the dark mirrors they flickered to life as she passed, showing her many things. Some were heartbreaking, some awful and made her look away sharply but most were the dreams that all children have.

Boys fought knights and dragons, saved people and were celebrated as heroes. In some they explored and discovered lost lands and hidden treasure. They swam, ran and flew and every single one of them were happily untroubled. Wendy watched, thinking of her brothers and what they would be dreaming about when Peter appeared at her back.

"These won't do," he said dismissively and Wendy felt a flash of reproach.

"They could be! Even the most tortured person can have wonderful dreams. How else can they escape?"

Peter smiled strangely and said nothing. He took her hand and pulled her over to a mirror. It was dark, gloomy and as Wendy focused she could hear something emitting from it: crying.

"That's how I find them, even if they dream they're kings they can't mask the truth."

Wendy watched the dream, seeing the haunted face of a tiny boy and felt her heart squeeze painfully. He dreamed of walking on the moon, of solitude and peace but even as he smiled and laughed it did not reach his tired eyes. Would he be better served staying with them, letting the panpipes fade away his pain and abuse but live forever? He could have that choice, something that so few of these boys had. Before Peter would play the music whether the Lost Boys wanted to forget or not but that was not right. She had chosen and that had been on her head, others should have the same choice.

"This one," she said, fingers hovering over the surface when the mirror, frame and all, suddenly disappeared. Wendy blinked, surprised and looked at Peter who sighed.

"Did he just wake up?"

"No, when they wake up the mirror just goes dark. He's dead," he said with no remorse and Wendy stared at him, not comprehending. A mirror, _a life_, had just winked out of existence and he looked utterly unconcerned.

"He just died? But – but I was going to bring him with us!"

"It happens," he shrugged, not looking at her increasingly furious face. "We better get to work. Don't touch the mirrors Wendy, otherwise you'll be sucked into their dreams and you don't want that to happen if they're near death."

Through her anger she felt a spike of dread, imagining such an awful fate. Not wanting to be in his presence in such a mood she brushed passed him, ignoring his intense gaze but she could feel it on her back as she walked away and lingered on her when alone. She searched the the mirror maze with a renewed purpose, vowing not to fail.

She did not know how long she searched, peeking into the private dreams of damaged boys but when she finally found him her feet were dragging. This place may be full of dreams but it was real and she was getting tired. Wondering what would happen if she fell asleep she walked passed a mirror, giving it a passing glance when she froze.

In the mirror a boy her own age was being beaten viciously. She found it hard to watch but what kept drawing her eyes was that the boy was shielding a younger girl, a sister perhaps. The scene shifted and the boy was lying on the ground, blood in his hair and laughing in defiance. It was a cocky sound, one that made you want to laugh along rather then reprimand. More scenes flashed before her eyes: the boy leading a gang of street urchins, fighting furiously until he was the victor. Finally the images shifted, blended into each other until there was a hazy scene before her. The boy with blood in his hair holding a baby, singing. Wendy smiled, touched. She had thought she would rescue a little boy, someone defenceless and she would in time but this was the one. He was dangerous, that was clear but he was not void or unfeeling, on contrary he seemed brimming with compassion. That was what Neverland needed and she would show Peter and Felix that you could have a Lost Boy with a heart.

"I've found him!"

"Who?" Peter asked, making her jump. She would have to learn to sense when he was near because it was getting ridiculous and he clearly took great pleasure in startling her. Wendy motioned to the mirror.

"Rufio."

* * *

**_a.n:_**

_Thanks for the fantastic response to the first chapter! Originally I said this would be ten chapters long but I'm going to stretch it out, especially because there's that three month hiatus coming._

_**ETA:** there seems to be some confusion about **me **taking a three month hiatus. I'M NOT. The show is on a break and won't come back until March. I plan to keep writing throughout that time. Clear? Cool._

_Thanks for reading/reviewing!_


	3. 1923

The first time Wendy had flown to Neverland she had been mistaken for the Never Bird and had almost died because of it. Seeing as this mystical beast had almost cost Wendy her life she had been naturally curious about seeing it but she had never been so lucky or, as it seemed, had anyone else. But that did not stop Peter.

As Wendy walked quietly though the trees, a quiver full of arrows slung over her back, she heard laughter ahead. Felix had been teaching her to shoot and she was deeply pleased with her progress, though she presented nothing but humility. The skill did not come naturally to her and so she had worked hard to train her body to adopt the corrects stances and to look after her arrows and bow. She focused on the task in the same way she had learned how to swim, which felt like an aeon ago now.

Tightening her wrist guards she saw that a group of Lost Boys were standing at the base of a great tree, one that Peter told her was the oldest in the jungle. Once the followers Peter had were few but they had been working for years to build the numbers back up and now their search was over. It was a group consisting of a few boys that Wendy had picked and even though she should not she always felt a flare of motherly affection when she saw _her_ boys.

However there was nothing motherly about her relationship with Rufio, unfortunately for her. He had been with them for a few weeks now, though she and Peter had been in contact with him through dreams for far longer. During those encounters her interaction with Rufio had been minimal, Peter wanting to make it clear that he was the leader and that their loyalty was to him. She was to be respected but at a distance. However the few times they had spoken Wendy had felt an unmistakable attraction that the dark haired boy could not mask. In fact she was sure he did not care about hiding it until he realised what she and Peter were to each other. Rufio was handsome, fun and confident and while Wendy recognised that those attributes were attractive she did not feel in anyway romantically inclined towards him.

She was happy to be in his company and had given him an enthusiastic welcome but she had been formal since then, never being too affectionate or psychically too close. It was to spare both of them any future pain. However unlike the other boys that Peter picked he waited longer to bring Rufio to the island, for reasons he would not give but she suspected. Rufio had made it perfectly clear that he did not want to stay in his world because he had nothing there left to stay for; his grandfather was dead and his younger sister along with him. But still Peter hesitated and made excuses until Wendy threatened to go and collect him herself, poison or no poison. The threat was probably not the best response to the situation but it had worked.

She smiled softly when she saw Rufio standing near the front of the group and like every morning he inclined his head to her respectfully on sight. Wendy stopped by a tree and wanting a better vantage point she left her bow and quiver at the base and climbed it before sitting on a bough overlooking the boys. She had never counted herself a tomboy but she could not pretend that she did not spend most of her time climbing trees and getting dirty. Sometimes she liked it, not wearing skirts but dressing in trousers and rustic blouses that she had woven herself. But at other times she liked to be clean and neat, just to remind herself that she was not born in a barn. Peter was stood high before the old tree, smiling excitedly and his eyes flashed giddily. _Oh no_, she thought with a sinking feeling. That look never boded well for anyone.

"It's taken years but finally you're all here!" Peter shouted and the boys clapped and cheered. He had managed to convince most of them that being picked was not just by chance but that it was fate. Maybe it was, Peter didn't believe in coincidence and she was starting to doubt it to.

"What is this place?" Rufio asked, looking up at the massive tree. It was dripping with moss and so high and large that it seemed to have it's own ecosystem, it's canopy lost in mist. Peter's mouth thinned ever so slightly but Wendy caught it before he grinned.

"Legends say this is the tree that the Never Bird nests in. Now it is tradition that whenever new Lost Boys are brought to Neverland they must prove their bravery."

"I'll do it! I'll do anything!" someone shouted and Wendy was pleased to see that it was not one of her boys. Only foolish people say such things without knowing the danger. Peter, of course, loved it.

"Good man! Now all you have to do is climb and to prove that you've reached the top you must take a feather and return with it. The one who is successful will have the feast tonight named in their honour!" Peter finished animatedly and the boys roared in approval. There was to be a huge celebration tonight, one that Wendy was looking forward to despite the mischief and mayhem that was sure to unfold.

"But how will you know they've not just grabbed any old feather up there?" Wendy asked loudly and the boys looked up at her with surprise. Peter, no doubt aware of her presence since she stepped out of her cave that morning, smiled.

"I'll know."

"But this doesn't seem much of a challenge," Rufio said and meant it. Wendy smiled while Peter cocked an eyebrow.

"Oh, did I forget to mention? Only someone with a pure heart can get a feather from the Never Bird," Peter explained, eyes now narrowed into slits. He smirked but Wendy knew he did not like being questioned unless it was by her or Felix. At this news the boys gathered slumped.

"And how many boys have succeeded in getting a feather?" Wendy asked.

"Only one," Peter said and to her stupefied surprise he produced a feather. She jumped down from the branch and moved over to him as the boys crowded around to get a look. It was the exact shape of a peacock feather but white. As it caught the light Wendy could see that there was an iridescent orange sheen marking out the eye at the feather's tip. It was beautiful.

"You need to have a pure heart to get it?" she asked, amazed as Peter nodded.

"Who did you steal it off?" Rufio asked and Wendy laughed before she could stop herself. It was a fair question. Peter smiled coldly as the boys laughed.

"_I_ got it when I first came to Neverland, took it from the bird herself, which was _quite_ before your time," Peter answered pointedly and Rufio looked at the ground, nodding. He knew when to back off but Wendy thought it was unnatural to him. He was outspoken, a natural leader but he could see who was the alpha here and he had likely heard now what happened to Slightly.

Wendy's humour faded as she gazed at Peter thoughtfully. He had never told her that he had seen the Never Bird, she had started to think it was just a myth. Again she was reminded that there was so much about Peter that she still had to uncover. People spend their whole lives getting to know a person and she had_ lifetimes_ but would she really be able to learn what she desperately wanted to? There was a way but it was such an invasion of privacy that she shuddered to consider it. She was not that desperate, not yet.

The boys were now looking up at the tree glumly. No one there thought they had a pure heart, because of the lives all of them had left behind. Everyone there was scarred in some way and none believed themselves pure. Whether it was true or not – she could not say what horrors they may have inflicted on others – they were not on the island to be miserable or feel any less about themselves. Peter had presented them with an impossible task, the Never Bird was not up there she was sure, he was just doing it to prove his own superiority over them. Mouth a thin line Wendy moved to Peter's side and before he could react she snatched the feather out of his hand.

"There! I've won! I think there are far too many self congratulatory boys here without throwing a party for one!"

"I wouldn't mind some Lost Girls..." one of the boys muttered and there was some throaty shouts of agreement. Peter groaned, eyeing her wickedly before the boys started chanting her name, Rufio leading the choir. Laughing wildly she was picked up and placed on the shoulders of the tallest Lost Boys – Felix would likely dance a jig before lifting her anywhere – and carried towards the camp where the feast was being set up.

"Put me down! I'm not ready!" she cried out, unable to stop grinning. Neverland could be a terrible place; she would never forget the pain, death and entrapment that she had once endured but sometimes it could be wonderful. It all depended on what they made of it.

* * *

White feather now tucked into a headband Wendy stared at herself in the mirror. Blue, silver and purple sequins glinted off her blue dress in the lamp light, casting splashes of light around the room. It was a lovely dress, straight from Paris. Through observing the dreams of those from her world she had been able to witness the passing of time that she was excluded from. She had seen the end of the Great War, rejoiced as most women were given the vote and watched, enthralled, the first moving pictures. She could not experience it like others could but she was not completely barred from the changes that were happening in her world and she would partake in it as best she could.

Mostly in private she wore the fashion that was popular now, listened to music - jazz and moody blues – and just as boys were brought to the island these things were too. In the beautiful bedroom that she fashioned for herself she had placed a real record player – something that the shadow had brought for her, along with other items. Humming along to Louie Armstrong she turned away from the mirror, her smile fading as she glanced around. The room was lit with candles and soft lamp light, making the yellow walls glow gold. The bed was large and the covers clean and soft and Persian rugs were underfoot. The polished oak wardrobe was filled with beautiful clothes, most of which she had spent days, even weeks, constructing herself by hand. There was a fireplace framed by two armchairs, small tables beside them, along with a radio. It was a comfortable, inviting room, a room belonging to a worldly, respectful woman.

However it was a room she experienced alone, empty of any other company. At first it had been a result of Wendy wanting her own space, something familiar and totally separate from Neverland and it largely still was. But over the years it transformed as her needs and wants did. Even though they shared the same island and they obviously had an attachment they still did not share a life together, not the one that Wendy wanted deep down. They saw each other everyday, sometimes they shared a bed but it was not complete, not fulfilling to her. One of her greatest wishes had been to have a domestic life, to have a husband and in time children. Now she could have none of those things but it did not stop her wishing and dreaming.

It was a room, a bed, meant for two. The wardrobe and cupboards sat waiting for another persons clothes to sit beside hers. It was missing books, trinkets and pictures that highlighted that this was a life shared. If she asked, if she laid her desire down at his feet, he would probably laugh and stamp on it. What right did a domestic life – boring, safe and so adult – have in Neverland? It was not him and, as his consort, it should not be hers. They shared an island, what use was a room?

"I want it, I want _more_..." she sighed, staring at the record as it began to skip, repeating the same phrase over and over.

_crazy, crazy, crazy, crazy -_

* * *

Torches flared and burned in the dark, moths and other insects fluttering around the flames recklessly. They mirror the boys circling the bonfire, jumping back and forth, swept up in the music of the pipes and their own heady liberation. Would they ever get burned? Could she stop that from happening? Now the island was the most peaceful it had likely ever been but could anyone truly temper Peter?

"Someone looks serious," a voice said and Wendy looked up and smiled at Tink. The fairy was in her usual attire, muted clothes that she confided had once been bright green. Wendy felt a little overdressed. The boys had cleaned up quite nicely; their hair was combed, their faces washed and they had removed their hoods but she was a glittering bauble in a sea of patchwork fabric and grubby knees. Eyes routinely flicked to her and she realised, not for the first time, that she was constantly surrounded by boys and not young ones at that. They would not dare treat her disrespectfully or make unwanted advances, she had made that clear and Peter even more so. However it did make her feel isolated sometimes. Tink suddenly flourished a hand, changing her clothes into a simple but pretty dark green dress made from leaves and small sparkling jewels. She pulled Wendy to her feet, making her laugh in surprise.

"Come on, lets step on some toes."

More thankful than she could voice that she had some female companionship she and Tink danced, twirling and spinning wildly. The fairy was usually so sullen, so sunk into her own sorrow that to see her so carefree, let alone smiling was something to be treasured. Wendy suspected rum had something to do with it but it seemed more than that.

"You're awfully happy tonight!" Wendy said as the drumbeat thrummed through her body. It never failed to amuse her that Peter had them learn how to play. Tink smiled, holding Wendy at arms length before spinning her. She was leading.

"I realised something!"

"What?"

"I love him."

Wendy slowed, staring at Tink in surprise. "You mean the Capitan?" she knew that Hook and the fairy were as intimate as possible and so she had believed that love was without question. But it seemed she was wrong.

"Yes," Tink said and drew Wendy away from the fire and overhearing boys. Wendy glanced at Peter talking to Felix and Rufio, who was laughing. Peter caught her eye and smiled, something hot and teasing and she felt her stomach tighten. He gave her that look before he usually chased her. But Tink drew her to a quiet spot, the music echoing distantly.

"I admit I thought you already did," Wendy confessed, taking a seat. "You're both so...close," she finished tactfully and Tink snorted and then sighed, cocking her head. She gazed at Wendy thoughtfully.

"Sometimes I forget how young you are," she said softly and Wendy was stung. She straightened, chin lifting.

"I'm actually twenty three now, sort of," she was not a child, she did not even feel like a teenager but true adulthood was just tantalising out of reach. Tink waved her hand.

"I mean that you've been sheltered for most of your life about the way of the world. I was to," Tink said quickly as Wendy was about to argue. "Where I come from fairies are forbidden from having relationships. We could not love, could not form attachments and be intimate. We had a job to do and nothing could get in the way of that..." she explained, eyes losing focus before she pinned Wendy with a look. "When I was banished I felt reckless, I wanted to tarnish all those stupid rules. I...well, I had fun," she said hedgingly and smirked.

"The sort of fun you have on the ship?"

"Possibly," Tink answered coyly but then grew serious. "Sex is not a substitute for love."

Wendy felt herself flushing but nodded. "I know that I just..." she had wanted to talk with someone about the subject but could not until now. Tink spent most of her time with Hook on the ship and so they did not get enough time together. Tink smiled gently.

"Go on."

Wendy licked her lips. "Girls like me, I mean ones who come from my world, my country, are told that to...consummate a relationship you have to be married. It would be amoral otherwise," she had spent many nights whispering about the subject with...Wendy could not remember who but she was sure she had red hair and laughed easily.

"Look around love, what place do those stuffy rules have here? What matters is what _you_ want and what you're ready for. I never thought I'd be having this conversation with you," Tink sighed, looking in the direction of Peter grimly. "If he pushes it I'll castrate him." she said and truly meant it.

Wendy took her hand and smiled. "He's been nothing but a gentleman where that's concerned. He's actually very patient." He's had to be.

"Still I'm sorry it's come to this. You deserve _so_ much better," she stared at her sadly and Wendy looked down. Tink did not just mean being poisoned but being paired with Peter. They had spoken about her predicament before and Tink was always deeply worried and sorry for her.

"I could be angry and fight to leave like I did before. But this time it's different. I can't leave, I've accepted that and so I'm not going to waste my time being upset. I'm alive and while I'm here I'm going to live as I chose to. I'm going to make this place different, it won't be like it was...as for Peter?" she paused, thinking of what had been and what was now. "I could hide, I could run but I've done that and I still ended up back here. I'm not a fool or deluded, I know what he is...but I also know what I feel and I won't ignore that. I can love him but still be true to myself. I can handle him," she said, gaze steady. It was convincing enough that Tink bought it. Spinning lies came as easy as breathing now, when she had to.

"Well at least one of us can. The changes haven't gone unnoticed you know," Tink said and lifted her face to the sky. Stars shone, as they do most nights now and Wendy had spent many hours tracing the strange constellations, giving names to the ones she did not know.

"Does Hook know?" she asked suddenly, the stars making her think of him, and Tink looked back down. She shrugged, the happiness she once had now muted.

"I'm competing with a ghost," she answered with a soft sad smile and Wendy squeezed her hand. She had been so hopeful but now she was introspective and unsure. Wendy had to cheer her up.

"Do you know how fairies are born?" she asked with a mischievous smile and Tink gave a sardonic look.

"I think I'm gonna learn."

"I was told that when a newborn laughs for the first time the sound shatters and fairies are born from the shards. After they all go skipping and flying around and that's how fairies are made," she finished with a knowledgeable air and Tink kept a straight face until she suddenly burst into hysterical laughter. It was such a sweet, rare sound that Wendy stored it away to recall later.

"What a load of bullshit! Ha ha!" after the laughter finally died away and she stopped rubbing her stomach she asked Wendy where she heard it.

"Oh from...from someone," she frowned because she could recall the story clearly but as to who told her it? That was fuzzy. "My mother, probably," she smiled but it did not quite reach her eyes. In the room she had created was a journal that years ago she had filled pages with stories about her family. She had only been able to crack open the cover before hastily storing it away in a drawer. She would read it one day, when she was ready because she did not want to forget her parents completely, despite the pain. Not yet but one day.

* * *

As the celebration lengthened into the night and a stolen cask of rum was consumed someone set off fireworks that could be seen from the _Jolly Roger_ and made the mermaids surface and watch, awed. Smile stretching her mouth, looking at the burning embers in the sky someone brushed against her.

"You're not dancing?" Rufio asked and Wendy looked down, shaking her head. She took a step away.

"I'm afraid not. Tink had tired me out," that was true, her feet were sore now. "I think I'll go to bed before they get into any real trouble." she jerked her head at the boys who were laughing loudly about something.

"Don't worry, I'll keep them in line," he said, glancing at her. He seemed to have read her unvoiced request and kept a distance but he also looked at Peter to check if he wasn't looking. Luckily he wasn't and Wendy felt relieved. It was actually exhausting having to tip toe around, watching for any signs of unrest like people living in the shadow of a volcano.

"So then what have you been up to?"

"Peter wants me to accompany Felix on their next scouting trip."

"To other worlds?" that was a prestigious honour. Maybe she was wrong about Peter not trusting Rufio.

"My world. I have friends there that I know need an escape, a better life," he said passionately and meant it. This _was_ a better life to him. She had seen the abuse he had endured, the pain and loss and instead of anger twisting him and lashing out he used it to help others like him. It was righteous and he was committed. She wished Peter was truly like that but she may as well wish to ride the Never Bird.

"I'd like to see your world. I'd like to see lots of places but I'm confined here," she sighed.

"Why?" he frowned heavily, almost angry.

"You don't know? I was poisoned with Dreamshade but cured by the water at the heart of the island. It means I can't leave," she showed him the black dot on her arm and he bent down, fingers hovering over her skin but did not touch.

"There's no cure?"

Wendy shook her head. "Just the water and that just keeps it at bay."

"There must be a cure. It doesn't seem right that you're being excluded from seeing the things I can. You're the reason I'm here, the reason I'm still alive," he breathed passionately and Wendy felt her stomach tighten with feeling, remembering the bright red blood he had in his hair after a terrible beating. That had forced Peter to finally rescue him.

"There's nothing you can do. Peter's tried."

"I'll look, there must be something that can help you in one of those worlds. I promise."

"Promise what?" Peter asked pleasantly and Wendy jumped. She felt guilty and scolded herself for it. She had done nothing wrong.

"That I'll find a cure for Wendy," Rufio answered with no hesitation and Peter cocked an eyebrow and smirked but his eyes were strange.

"It seems you've got yourself a champion Darling," he smiled and Wendy gave a weak one in return. Peter turned to Rufio, hands on his hips, legs apart and Wendy sighed. It was his stance before he fought and she was in no mood for fighting, either a physical one or a word battle. She yawned loudly, pointedly and Peter's burning eyes shot to her.

"Oh, excuse me, I'm quite tired," she inclined her head to Rufio and Peter before walking away. She did not look behind but when she felt a tingle go through her back she knew she had succeeded. Peter stopped her, hand on her arm and she turned.

"Tired? You haven't even danced with me yet. I think you've been avoiding me," Peter said with a pout before looking up at the sky as a firework exploded. Wendy cocked an eyebrow and smirked.

"I don't seem to have your name on my card," she said mock seriously and looked down from the light display. He gazed at her and lifted a hand to touch the feather above her head.

"I don't need a card, all those dances are mine. You do like to dress up, don't you?" he said with approval, as if she had raided a dressing up box for him rather than wearing something for herself. Well, half for herself. Wendy shrugged, looking back up at the sky as a huge golden explosion erupted in the sky.

"It seems the proper thing. We live on an island where any thought we have is possible but no one really seems to take advantage of that." Along with compassion she had picked boys with imagination and she hoped that would tackle the lack of creativity that plagued the island. In her opinion, of course...

"Are you calling me boring? Again?" he asked, offended, eyebrow cocked but his eyes shone in bemusement. His jealousy seemed to have faded, or at least it wasn't consuming him for the present.

"_Well._.." she trailed off, smirking and then gasped when he grabbed her. He pulled her into his arms and she smiled against his shoulder. They moved in slow circles and she was vividly reminded of another dance, this one underground but filled with the same revelry. She had been so happy, so carefree but she had to pretend that she was loved as she wished and now...was it any different? She told herself to just move, no thinking.

They were secluded, leaves shielding them but she could see glimmers of the camp. His lips brushed against her neck and she closed her eyes, hands gripping at his chest as he kissed her throat and made his way up to her chin. She liked these moments, moments that she could pretend was just them. Sometimes she imagined that they were not in Neverland but in some secluded park in London and they were _normal_. She opened her eyes when her back gently touched a tree trunk and she saw dazedly that Rufio was watching them. His eyes were pinned to hers and when she realised he quickly turned and walked away. Peter leaned down to kiss her but Wendy pushed against him and he stopped.

"What?"

"Nothing. I really am tired," she said again. She wished she hadn't felt Rufio's eyes on her, hadn't spotted him because now the mood was spoiled. Peter started grinding his teeth and exhaled a breath through his nose before moving aside.

"You're as changeable as the weather, _London_ weather," he gritted out, unable to mask his frustration and Wendy stopped. She inhaled and kissed him hard, hands delving into his hair before he could react. She filled the kiss with all the bottled up frustrations and needs that she felt and he responded in kind, kissing her furiously. It was a kiss that could end with her on her back, she had felt how close it could be before and this time she was not scared. Mouth well used and throbbing she pulled back and he followed her with a strange growling whimper. She smiled dreamily.

"Yes I suppose I am. Will you walk me back?"

"If you wish it," he answered and took her hand.

* * *

As they made their way back to Wendy's cave you can see the change in the terrain that slowly hints that you were now heading into Wendy's side of the island. There were clear pathways, even sign posts and logs were embedded in the earth as steps. They walked over a swing bridge that arced over a narrow but deep stream before they reached Wendy's cave.

"You know if there was a cure I would have got it by now," Peter said, stopping her before she climbed the ladder.

"I know," she said but the truth was she did not know. She only had his word that there was no cure, not even one on the island. It was convenient for him, a way to keep her by his side but she had told herself that if she doubted everything he said or did she would never stop. She did not want to live in such uncertainty or to be so mean minded. He was cruel but he seemed appalled at the prospect of losing her. Having a cure would ease his mind as much as hers.

"You'll never guess what Tink told me?"

"What?"

"She's in love with a certain pirate," Wendy confided and only felt a little ashamed. She did not keep much from Peter and he would end up finding out anyway. He always did. Peter laughed but did not seem surprised.

"A fairy without wings and a soldier without a hand, what a match!"

"Don't be mean," she said but she may as well ask the tides to go in. She took the feather out of her hair and handed it back to him but he shook his head.

"Keep it," he offered gently and Wendy smiled, titling her head.

"How did you get it?"

"Well I didn't steal it," he answered tersely before shrugging. "Another thing that I don't have a clear picture of. It was early on, I know that." He looked upwards as clouds skidded across the night sky. "I just remember it's song," he sighed and by his tone of voice she knew it must have been the most beautiful sound. Again she was beset with frustrated curiosity to know more but knew that she would not get it from him.

_His dreams on the other hand..._

Wendy pushed the thought away and gently brushed the back of her fingers down his cheek, making him look at her in surprise. She gazed at him with a soft yearning and he seemed hypnotised, body leaning into her.

"Will you let me in? Will you let me stay?"

"I should but I can't. I need something that's just mine. Do you understand?"

He nodded even as his jaw clenched. "I do but I want your everything. I want_ more_," he breathed against her mouth and she blinked. She wanted that but he made it sound like he wanted to consume her while she just wanted to share. Wendy leaned back and smiling gently she took hold of his head and tiptoed to kiss his forehead.

"Goodnight Peter," she whispered and turned before she could register his expression. She felt his eyes on her, burning a trail up and down her body. Lying in bed that night, locked safely away in her room she felt that he was still outside, prowling like a wolf, and her body thrummed with want. The next morning her suspicion was right because as she made her way over the stream she saw that her cave was now completely surrounded by a wall of Dreamshade. She could be scratched by it and experience no ill effect, not any more, but anyone that approached would be in grave danger.

If Peter could not enter then no one else could either.

* * *

**_a.n:_**

_Hi, fyi I'm not on hiatus, the show is. So it's going to get more intimate between them soon. After the last episode I hope this goes some way to soothe the pain *cries* _

_(though Peter and that speech was vicious... *_*)_


	4. 1927

His fingers circled the rim of the pipes, his thoughts occupied. The panpipes had been retrieved from an old drunk in Kensington Gardens after reports that he was making passers by march in formation down the Broad Walk or making strangers dance together, all under the influence of the pipes. The Home Office had interrogated him about how it came into his possession, suspecting a connection to Pan, but the old man had told them that a nice girl had given them to him some years ago. He said that he was instructed to keep them safe but the temptation to use them was too great to resist.

"I told 'em the Pied Piper was real!" he had stressed before the pipes were taken and replaced with a few sovereigns. Despite the money he seemed loath to part with the pipes but he did so, after some persuading.

"The Pied Piper..." John muttered, a frown between his eyebrows and reached for his father's pen and a note pad. In a large basket at his feet Nana slept, snoring softly. The Office used to be his father's study and ghosts of the former inhabitant were everywhere, a daily reminder of what had been torn away from him. Michael had suggested removing some items, storing them away but John refused. He did not want to forget, not for a second, what Pan had reduced his family to.

As John wrote, scribing the possible connection between Pan, his pipes, the ancient god and the Pied Piper his thoughts were stuck in the past. He remembered as a boy overhearing his father crying. It had been the first and only time that he witnessed such an outpouring of emotion from his father that wasn't anger or indignation. It happened when Wendy disappeared from Roedean and his parents were lead to assume she had died or run away. His father had cried with Mrs Darling, blaming himself because he had sent her away, possibly making her believe that she was unloved. His father died with regret and guilt in his heart, never knowing the truth.

Peter Pan did not kill his parents directly but if he had never kidnapped his sister, never interfered with the Darlings, then none of this would have happened. John pulled an old photograph out of a drawer and stared at it. On the night his parents died and Wendy had been taken they all had their picture taken in the garden. The family shot was framed and pride of place on the desk but the one in his hand was usually hidden in a drawer or in his pocket. Pan was sat next to his sister, staring at her as she smiled happily into the camera. It was a beautiful picture, he could not deny that. At a glance it looked like two young lovers together, one besotted and the other exceedingly happy but John knew the truth and it warped it. There was something desperate in his sister's eyes, something that made it look like she was holding back a scream. Pan smiled at her softly but it was sharp, cruel and along with it was a ravenous hunger in his eyes like he wanted to eat her whole.

John had stared and stared at the hated boy so many times now that he didn't even look human any more. His face was a mask and the true monstrous visage was just underneath, if you really looked. He had almost destroyed the picture many times but it was the only bit of hard proof that Pan had been with them, the only piece of evidence of what he looked like. So John kept it with him always, a reminder of what he was fighting and who he was fighting for.

He sighed and got to his feet, snapping the lid back on the fountain pen. He had booked a ticket to America and he would need to pack soon. The Home Office had got word that a girl in Kansas was claiming she had been transported to another world and returned home by the use of some ruby red slippers. It could be the prattle of an unbalanced mind but it was his and Michael's job to investigate, even if it lead them to dead ends.

"Late again," he sighed, looking at his watch. His younger brother was dating a girl, much to his slight annoyance. What use was romance and flowers when they had a war to win? Once Pan was dead and they had rescued Wendy all that could come after. John was now twenty two, had no lovers, no friends to speak of outside of the Office and he did not care. Michael held his grief quietly and his anger would burst from him sometimes but he was different. He wanted a life outside of the Office, he wanted a family and to move on. He would not admit it, for fear of looking defeatist but John knew. Michael was a warm person, emotional like their mother had been but John, even as a boy, was often cold and his anger fed into that until it solidified around him like ice.

Pan had destroyed his family, made a mockery of his sister before abducting her and he would not rest until he paid for that. John placed the picture into the briefcase, along with the pipes, and just as he snapped it shut the papers on his desk started to flutter. He turned to the window but it was shut and he looked back, frowning as a burst of green light suddenly erupted in the middle of the room. John ducked down behind a chair as a whirling vortex opened, making papers and other objects fly around the room in the intense wind it produced. He gripped a gun he kept under his coat, steeling himself and rose smoothly, pointing at the interlopers. What he saw made him almost drop the weapon to the floor.

"John!"

"...Michael?" he asked, bewildered. Standing before the portal was unmistakably his brother but he seemed to have aged fifteen years. Michael, if it was him, came forward and without another word hugged him roughly. John remained unresponsive, too shocked to move. Another man was behind him, someone he did not know. He walked forward, ignoring him and went straight to petting Nana, who did not seem to mind.

"It's me," Michael said and John got a good look at him. He really was older, though he hadn't seemed to have grown any taller. Michael gripped his brother's face, tears in his eyes, sad and joyful all at the same time. "I've missed you so much! You look so young!"

"What?" John tried to think, tried to make sense of what was happening but the other man was slipping a pen into his pocket. "Do you mind?!"

"Not really," the man said but put the pen back. He sighed and stared at Michael in boredom. "You ready?"

"This is Jefferson, he's here to help us. I know you must be confused and I will explain everything but we should go," Michael nodded and the man, who seemed to have power to keep the portal open, motioned for them to enter. John hesitated, deeply confused and suspicious.

"Is it really you?"

"Yes, we've travelled back in time. Though I admit I didn't think it would be back this far. You're unsure, aren't you? Than I'll prove it. You took boxing until you were nineteen, you found the spinsters and once you tried to hit Peter Pan with a teaspoon, " he finished with a twitch of his lips, proving his identity and John was satisfied but still confused. He grabbed his briefcase and followed Michael into the vortex, Jefferson trailing behind.

He was lead into a room, a room the likes of which he had never seen before. He was a jaded man, hardened through suffering but he turned in awe, mouth open. He stared at the doors, nodding, because he had heard of this place and suddenly knew who the man was.

"You're the Mad Hatter, aren't you?" he asked, turning. The seer sisters had mentioned that a man had the power to travel to other worlds in a hat but he was very hard to find. He thought it was nonsense but the real world was stranger than he gave it credit for. The Hatter's mouth thinned in distaste.

"I prefer Jefferson. You think anyone likes being called crazy? And I've never been to Wonderland in my life," he added and the brothers stared in shock. Jefferson had brought Nana along with them, who was sitting quite contently at his feet.

"What's she doing here?"

"There are rules that you're not aware of," he said and began walking Nana across the room, towards the casement window that leads to Neverland. "The hat has rules. If two people go through a door then only two can come back. You're planning on returning with someone else, right?"

Michael nodded and stared down at Nana sadly. She was their dog but she was more then that, she was the only remaining family member they had. Everyone else had either died or been taken from them. The brothers crouched down and stroked her fur, staring at each other. Michael was deeply sad while John tried to suppress it.

"If she could understand she'd volunteer," he said stiffly, like Nana was a solider rather than a dog. Michael smiled.

"She always hated Pan, maybe she'll finish him off so we don't have to."

"You hear that Nana? Show no mercy," John said and gave her a hug before standing. Michael took longer saying goodbye, knowing that once they went through the window he may not get a chance.

"So what do we do?" John asked, inspecting the glass stained casement window before them. It was an almost exact replica of the one in their old nursery. The window was halved in two and one side depicted a foggy London while the other was an island with a ship anchored in rolling waves. How it came to be here, _why_ their nursery window was a door to Neverland he could not guess. Jefferson pointed at two stars placed at the top of the window, one on each side.

"Like I told Michael I avoid going to this place. It's not just the charming company that's a problem but the place itself. It's just..._weird_ and never stays still. Sometimes the window _hides_," Jefferson explained in exasperation. "But luckily it's staying put. I don't know what you'll find on the other side, what time it'll be even. It changeable but I'll keep the window open for your return."

"Thank you," Michael said and gave Jefferson a sack filled with money. "It's half. Once we return with Wendy you'll get the rest."

Jefferson looked unimpressed but he took the money and stored it in his pocket, waking a small golden goose there. John starred and then shook his head. Sometimes there could be too much oddness to take in during one day and your brain ignores it for it's own health. Doing so John turned to Michael, took Nana's lead and they faced the window. Michael, now bizarrely the eldest, opened the Neverland side of the window and with a sharp intake of breath he climbed through it. John, pushing aside _why_ Michael had gone back in time for him, closed his eyes, giving one last prayer before he and Nana followed Michael through.

Jefferson sighed and sat before the window, crossing his legs and pulled out the goose from his pocket along with a harp. He stared at them, chin in his hand and waited. He could just leave, close the window and forget the rest of the money but he had a baby girl to think about now.

* * *

Wendy walked along the shore, the sky a hazy blue. It was incredibly hot and only a light breeze blew off the sea, making her hair lift occasionally. Every morning she would make this walk, watch the sunrise and than do the same at sunset. The rise and fall of the sun was not real, she knew that but she needed that normalcy, that way to tick off the days even if there were no days to count. Sometimes Peter would accompany her or Tink but that morning she was alone, Peter away and the fairy on the ship. As she came to the rock pools she saw with surprise that Rufio was sat there, sharpening a sword.

"Good morning! I thought you were away?" He usually went with Peter and Felix, helping them search or gather goods. Rufio stood, smiling and helped her up onto the rock.

"We just got back," he said and sat, not looking at her. For awhile now he seemed despondent, dissatisfied but he would not say why. She usually had to snatch moments alone with him, mostly when Peter was not there and so far they were the only times she had to really talk to him. Rufio had left, not that long ago and he had been excited. He would not say why but Wendy suspected that he had information about finding a cure for her. Maybe he had failed, thus his present mood.

"You seem out of sorts," she began and he snorted. Her sometimes genteel, tactful ways amused him.

"I learned something and it was not what I wanted," he answered vaguely, sharpening his blade with a whetstone. He was a skilled swordsman, even before coming to the island.

"Forget it then. Whatever it was, whatever disappointment you feel now, it will pass," she whispered, speaking of herself. She had experienced many disappointments and would likely continue to but she tried not to dwell on them. _Well, except one_, she thought guiltily but kept her face smooth.

"It's easier said then done. I don't know what I really expected to find here," he said, looking out to sea. "Eternal youth, who doesn't want that? But now..."

"You've changed your mind?" she asked, her heart sinking. Her feelings, or lack there of, had not changed but she did care deeply about him and counted him as her friend, Peter be damned. "I know you don't like playing second fiddle -"

"Its not that. Peter's in charge, I accept that. I might not agree with everything he says or does but he's the leader," he said, mouth thinning. He had been shocked and then enraged at Peter surrounding her cave with Dreamshade, though not as angry as she had been. Even now it still stood, though she could control it to a small degree now, letting those she wants in, much to Peter's ire.

"I know this place is not a paradise, not even close to one. I think that everyone loses something by coming here, even as we gain something new," she said, looking wistful.

"What did you lose?" he asked, finally looking at her. He looked tired.

"Well my adulthood for one. I had such plans," she sighed and he nodded.

"I wanted a family. I had this dream that I'd be older, not poor any more and a father. A _good_ one and I'd take care of my family and nothing would hurt them," he said, gaze losing focus and something in Wendy ached. It was what she wanted, what she envisioned in such detail. No one had shared her desire before.

"I have the same regret," she confessed and he stared at her deeply. It was a half tormented half hopeful look and Wendy could have drowned in it. He turned suddenly, looking out to sea again.

"Maybe it's not impossible, maybe one day it will happen. Just not here," he said with a shrug and Wendy furtively looked away, mind going back to her cave. It was more than just a room now and sometimes, on days when she felt desperate and sad enough she did not share it alone. But it was a secret she shared with no one, especially not Peter.

Rufio pointed out to sea, at the _Jolly Roger_ that could just be seen in a heat mirage. She stared, hand over her eyes. "Is there anything out there beside Neverland?" he asked and Wendy shook her head.

"Peter told me that once he swam and swam, wondering if there was anything else. He said he must have been swimming for days when he came across land. He thought he had discovered something new but he soon realised he was back where he started. Hook would tell you the same."

"Circles," Rufio said, drawing one in the sand and Wendy nodded. "This island is the perfect prison, if you couldn't leave," he said and looked at her pointedly, troubled again.

"I'm not a prisoner. This is my home now, I've built something important," she said, mind again going back to her room and the thing now in it.

"But you are stuck. What if...what if I told you there was a way to -" he began but stopped suddenly, staring over her shoulder in complete shock. Wendy turned and her mouth fell open.

A woman was walking out of the sea and she did not have a stitch of clothing on. Long, thick dark hair reached her hips and it blew in the wind as she walked out of the surf, her skin pebbled with water. Wendy jumped down onto the sand as Rufio turned his back, casting his eyes away. Wendy stopped at a distance, squinting at the young woman who smiled and recognition hit her.

"Tiger Lily?"

The mermaid nodded and lifted a hand in greeting. When Peter had been stuck in London his connection to Neverland had been severed and with it his control. The mermaids native to these waters, once trapped, were free to move onto other realms. Since Wendy had returned she had not seen Tiger Lily and suspected that she had escaped with the rest. But here she was, not much older than she had been before and completely unconcerned with her present state. She lifted out a hand to shake and Wendy laughed and took it, thinking back to the first time they had been properly introduced.

"Hello. It's been some time but it is so good to be back here. I've come to ask for your help," she said and her eyes flicked to Rufio who was still standing with his back to her. A small frown line appeared between her brows. "Have I offended him?" she whispered, confused and Wendy laughed.

"No, he's just displaying good manners," she said lightly and tugged on the blouse she wore. Tiger Lily's eyes widened.

"Oh, I always thought the fabrics you wore were odd but landlubbers are strange creatures, especially in a place as hot as this," she said but waved a hand before her body. Seconds later she was clothed but only enough to cover her modesty. Wendy wished she could be so uninhabited.

"Do you want to speak to Peter?" Wendy asked, leading the mermaid to Rufio where she cocked her head in bemusement, eyeing him.

"You can turn around now," Tiger Lily said and he did so, eyeing her swiftly before looking at the ground. She smiled coyly. "Is it customary for you to lower your eyes before a woman?"

"No," he said, looking up sharply and the mermaid laughed. This time he did not look away and kept his gaze on her.

"Pity," she said, almost daring him to look down again and Wendy stared between them, wondering what was happening. She turned to her old ally who had trouble keeping eye contact, often glancing back at Rufio.

"I thought you had left with the others?"

"I did. You succeeded, like I knew you would, and we were free to swim to other waters. I never thought I would see my home again but then I heard tales. The seas were calm, the stars shone and skies were clear because of the queen on the island."

"I'm no queen," Wendy demurred as they made their way into the jungle.

"Come on, he doesn't run this place on his own," Rufio countered and Wendy walked a little taller. However Tiger Lily stared at her in confusion.

"I thought you had escaped so I did not think it was you. I'm sorry he has netted you again but I can see your happiness," she said softly. Every so often she would become distracted by the way light shone through a leaf or a bird that flew overhead and would just stand there, watching in awe. Wendy turned during one of these moments, hands on her hips.

"I'm not something caught in a net, not any more. Whatever help you want I will give it, if it's in my power."

"My people want to come home. We want to return to Neverland but we must have his assurance that we will be free. We know why he trapped us all those years ago but that threat is past," she uttered mysteriously, losing Wendy.

"What threat?"

"That is his tale," she answered, eyeing a butterfly in wonder. Rufio's mouth quirked at her naked joy at such small, simple things but his smile fell when he looked at Wendy. He cleared his throat, coming to the camp and Wendy could see Peter standing with Felix. They were sharpening swords, like Rufio had been doing. Tiger Lily grew serious, eyes pinned on Peter below.

"I would speak with him," she said and was about to march in when Wendy took her arm.

"Let me talk to him first. He still thinks you're the mermaid that tried to kill me so confronting him without warning would not be...wise," Wendy said and she stepped back, nodding.

"Very well. Blushing boy," she addressed Rufio suddenly and his eyebrows shot up. "You're new to the island? Tell me of the changes you have seen."

Wendy left them to talk and approached Peter. He watched her coming to him, no doubt aware of Tiger Lily's presence the moment she swam into this realm. Wendy took his arm and lead him to a quiet place, motioning for Felix to follow them.

"She wants to talk with you about her people coming home," she started but he was already shaking is head.

"Why should I listen to her? She tried to drown you once."

"She actually wanted to save me, from you. If she hadn't given me the squid ink to freeze you my plan wouldn't have worked," she said and he snorted, eyeing the mermaid standing with Rufio.

"They seem chummy," Felix observed and Wendy looked up, hearing Tiger Lily laughing loudly. She had not known the mermaid for long but she knew when someone was smitten.

"Yes, so it seems. They met just minutes ago," she confessed but Peter shrugged, eyeing the pair thoughtfully.

"I'll grant her request on one condition."

"What?"

"If Rufio fights me for it," he said and Wendy blinked at him. "If he wins then they can move as freely as they once did. If I win it will stay as it was."

Wendy rounded on him, fuming. "How can you be so unfeeling?! They should not have to fight for anything! This is their home as much as yours! After you trapped them this is the least you could do!"

"After _I_ trapped them? Oh you have no idea," he said through gritted teeth and left her standing there red faced and angry. He motioned for Tiger Lily to approach and she did, Rufio at her side. It looked like he was with the mermaid but Wendy knew he would not hesitate to protect Peter if he had to.

"Wendy has told me about your request and I agree. However a handshake or signature is boring. Fighting for things is a lot more fun, shows that you really want it."

"Fight?" Tiger Lily said, eyes flashing and Peter grinned.

"Oh not you. Rufio promised me a friendly duel this morning but I think this makes it more interesting then just your routine combat. If he bests me in a dual than I will agree with your mandate."

Tiger Lily shook her head, confused and angry. "But this is not fair. These boys follow you, they will not try to beat you. I can not win unless I fight you myself," she said and meant it. Peter shook his head.

"Oh I could never fight a lady, though I do not doubt you're a warrior. You see I want to prove something to myself. Wendy picked some of the boys here, she wanted the most perfect Lost Boys possible, one with empathy and compassion but I want boys that can also follow orders, that can shed blood if they have to. Every loyal boy here, by rights, should do as I request even if it's fighting me."

"That makes no sense!" she said and Peter chuckled.

Wendy could see what he was doing and hated him for it. If Rufio fought him his position would change. If he lost and Peter won he would be humiliated but if he won Peter would look weak and Rufio could possibly incur the wrath of the other boys. There were already whispers of his unrest at Peter's leadership. But what it really boiled down to was that Peter needed an outlet, he needed to fight Rufio because every single day he was with them the jealousy that Peter felt increased and with it a violence. This was just an excuse to cause as much pain as he could without killing anyone.

"This is ridiculous," Wendy groaned but Peter smirked, eyeing Rufio who sighed and withdraw his sword. He knew exactly why this was happening, she could see it on his face. She went up to him, hand on his arm. "You don't have to do this."

"I think I do, I think it was gonna happen whatever the excuse," he said and turned to Tiger Lily. "I'll fight for you."

"This was not what I wanted," the mermaid said and leaned over to kiss his cheek. "Thank you. I will hold no blame in my heart if you fail."

"Uh thanks..." he said and flexed his shoulders back and looked at the ring of boys that had now formed. He grinned suddenly, a cocky gleam in his eyes and lifted his sword. "Come on! For the Lost Boys!"

"The Lost Boys!" they shouted and Peter narrowed his eyes but said nothing. Wendy went to his side, tugging him close and hissed into his ear.

"If you hurt him I will never forgive you."

"I thought I was past forgiveness? Don't worry, I'll let him walk out of here," he answered arrogantly and Wendy dug her nails into his arm. Sometimes she felt like screaming and shaking him but restrained herself. She could save it for when they were alone but either way it was pointless. He did not care.

"I'm rooting for him to win, not because of who he is but because this win means so much for so many. This is about more than your petty jealousy over nothing," she whispered and he finally looked at her.

"Nothing? You don't see what's happening but I do. No one takes what's mine," he said and she knew he meant more than her. Peter was taking those mutiny whispers seriously.

"He's not trying to overthrow you," she said quietly but he stared deep into her eyes.

"Don't you remember what the spinsters said would happen when I returned here? _Insurrection_. They weren't referring to Slightly." He tightly gripped his sword as the boys chanted Rufio's name and Peter stared at Wendy pointedly before stepping into the ring.

Wendy stood by Tiger Lily's side, heart pounding and watched as Rufio and Peter bowed to each other civilly. She had seen Peter fight with a sword a handful of times, he preferred using a crossbow but he moved the weapon with an easy, strong grace. Rufio might be skilled but he did not have three hundred odd years of experience.

"The first one to draw blood wins," Peter stated and Rufio nodded.

"Just avoid the face."

"Likewise."

Wendy grabbed Tiger Lily's hand as the boys began to fight, dodging and parrying, getting the feel for each other before Rufio lunged. Wendy gasped, jumping but Peter blocked the move with his sword and pushed Rufio away. He grinned, which the dark haired boy returned.

"I don't know why I don't do this more often. It's fun!"

"Yeah, using apples as target practise gets boring after awhile," Rufio agreed and Peter smirked.

"The apples weren't the targets," he struck forward, aiming low and Rufio blocked him. The clash of sword against sword rang in Wendy's ears, making her blink every time the noise sounded. At first Peter had the offensive but then Rufio started to fight harder, quicker until Peter was the one defending himself. Wendy could see the irritation on his face increasing as sweat poured, could see the realisation that he did not have the upper hand here. He was not in control and Rufio was winning.

Tiger Lily let go of Wendy's hand and clapped, bouncing on her feet and making strange cheering noises and Wendy joined in, unable to stop herself. Peter's eyes flicked to her, unbelieving and she smirked but then gasped as he was suddenly pushed down to a knee. Boys cheered, though most of them gasped, watching apprehensively.

"Do you yield?" Rufio asked, panting but Peter stared up at him through narrowed eyes.

"Never," he breathed. Peter challenged him with a look, mouth curling because he knew that even on his knees he was the winner. All Rufio had to do was nick his skin, the smallest scratch and he would have won for Tiger Lily. But if he did that he would be playing into Peter's twisted game. So Rufio did the only thing he could, he lowered his sword and stepped back, leaving Peter unharmed.

"I forfeit," he said, looking at the mermaid sadly. Peter got to his feet, looking annoyed.

"You can't forfeit! Only cowards do that. Are you a coward?" he asked, grinning and Rufio tensed. Wendy moved forward but Rufio held out a hand, stopping her. He turned to Peter, sword still lowered.

"Cut me then, beat me and win," he lifted his arms, giving Peter ample targets but he glared at his rival.

"That would be no victory, not one that's handed to you. Fight me!" he ordered and his voice rang out. Rufio sighed, shaking his head but lifted his sword.

"If I fight it's for the real reason. Enough of this game. You want to fight me for her," he said and pointed at Wendy. "Admit it!"

"No one is fighting! Do you hear me?!" Wendy shouted, moving between them. "Listen to yourselves! I'm not a prize to be won. Whoever wins this ridiculous fight will not take me and if either of you tried I'd stab you myself. Peter," she addressed him softly, "stop this and come away." she took his hand, pulling him from the ring but he stood still, glaring at Rufio.

"I know what you're thinking, I know what you plot in your dreams," he said and Rufio stiffened. He looked in pain, guilty but then he started to smile softly, eyes dark.

"And I know the secret you're keeping from her," he said and Wendy stared at him, confused.

"What secret?" she asked but neither boy would answer her. Peter's eyes pinned Rufio, flickering until he suddenly smiled and inclined his head, like Rufio had just defeated him and he was acknowledging it.

"Mermaid, you've got your wish," he said and Tiger Lily blinked in surprise.

"He has won?"

Peter said nothing and walked away, letting go of Wendy's hand. She stared at him, deeply confused and after nodding at Rufio she chased after him.

* * *

There was a place in Neverland that Peter took no one to see, not even Felix. The Thinking Tree was said to be next to an old pixie dust grove but Peter confessed to her that he moved it around, so no one could find it. Wendy ran through the grove anyway and soon became lost. She knew just about every corner of the island but like the house she had created for herself it could change with a thought. If Peter did not want to be found then he wouldn't be.

"Come on! I don't even want to see your blasted tree!"

"Good because you never will," he uttered behind her back and she spun around to find him sitting on a tree stump. He was clearly in a spiteful mood and Wendy wished she had left him to cool off. He was not used to losing and Wendy realised that the sky above was darkening, clouds blocking out the sun. Wendy sighed, moving closer.

"For someone so old you really are still a boy in many ways."

"Oh, did you just notice?" he uttered sarcastically and Wendy's lips thinned as she rolled her eyes. She sat beside him as he glared into the middle distance. She had known Peter for years now and she knew when he was truly conflicted. He hid away.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing to concern yourself with," he answered curtly and Wendy fisted her skirt over her knees in frustration.

"I'm just trying to help."

"See that's the problem," he said, turning to her. "I don't want it or need it," he fixed his intense gaze on her as Wendy got to her feet.

"Fine," she uttered, disgusted and wanted to walk away and leave him to sulk but she turned back. "You know not_ everything_ is about you and sometimes you won't get your own way."

"You think I give a damn about winning against _him_ or any of them?" he hissed, eyes burning. "I could care less. There are larger matters and things are moving, wheels spinning and they have no idea."

"What secret was Rufio talking about?" she asked, guessing that was the root of his current ire. Peter rolled his eyes and got to his feet.

"You should be more concerned with his secret. Lets just say your _precious_ Lost Boy is not as pure and holy as you believe."

"That's rich coming from you," she scoffed and he smiled, coming to her side.

"I make no illusions, I am what I am though you seem committed to change that. While I give you some leeway here don't _ever_ forget that this is my island and everything stops with me," he breathed and she leaned back, heart racing.

"You're like a child throwing a tantrum. Grow up!"

"You first," he laughed and she sneered and turned from him. She walked away, forcing herself not to look back and only started running when his cruel laughter faded from her ears.

* * *

Spite ran through her veins, making it impossible to sleep. She knew that Peter was cruel and devious but since being on the island she had seen other sides to him, sides that she pulled out of him without meaning to. She would be deceiving herself to think that a few sweet moments and kisses could truly mask what he was at heart. He could not help it, he was not devoid of all soft emotions but he was incapable of true compassion or love; she knew that but it made her feel angry at herself for clinging onto those small moments and the hope that he could give more.

She climbed out of bed, looking at the dark bulk at the end of the room and wanted to make it vanish but she did not have the heart. She had woke one morning to find the crib there, something else that had escaped from her dreams. She had approached it, not breathing but it had been empty but since then it had been sitting there, as if waiting to be occupied. Wendy had not let the fantasy get that far but it had come close, very close.

She gripped her hands around the banister of the baby's cot, a mobile above with the feather she had attached to it twirling as she blew against it. Peter did not care about her wants, not really so why should she show him the same consideration?

"He can't have everything," she whispered and her mind made up she left the bedroom and crib behind and headed towards the Dream Caves.

* * *

The mirror, _his_ mirror was dark and nothing moved on it's surface. At first she thought that he had blocked her or she had the wrong one but as soon as she called for Peter's dream the mirror appeared in front of her. Maybe he had no control over it, in the same way he seemed to lack the ability to stop having nightmares. This was not his realm.

But it wasn't hers either and so she sat and waited on her knees for something to happen. Just as she was about to give up, feelings of shame starting to overtake her spite, the mirror flickered to life and she sat up. Something rippled over the dark glass and an almost inaudible noise issued from it but she cocked her head, leaning close and could just hear the sobs of a child. Unable to look away Wendy braced her hands on either side of the mirror and leaned closer, trying to see. The ripples were water and shapes floated on the surface, possibly petals.

"Foxgloves...?" she muttered and leaned closer. Too close. Her forehead touched the surface and she was sucked into the nightmare before she could stop it.

_- a baby's stubby fingers, chewing on pink petals, a pain shots through her stomach, a woman sings a lullaby, eggshells, oaks and acorns, a woman screams in fear and rage, a baby laughs -_

_I can't breathe_, the thought flashed through her mind and she tried to drag herself out, tried to breathe but she could not. Cold water filled her lungs and she was helpless against the flashes of images and sensations.

_- water sloshes, flowers drifting above and a pressure against her – his – chest builds. Hands hold them under as someone cries -_

Wendy, seconds away from death, was pulled roughly out and she collapsed onto the clear floor, staring but not seeing the many mirrors below. She breathed raggedly as Peter dropped to his knees beside her.

"_You – you!_" he stuttered, too enraged to form sentences but Wendy did not care. She started to sob, her throat tight and sore and she panted, cheek pressed against the floor.

She had _felt_ him, felt his confusion, his crippling fear and absolute betrayal as if it had been happening to her and it tore her apart. She groaned as she was yanked up, tears blinding her and before he could do anything she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him to her. He was breathing hard, almost out of control but as she shook against him Peter pulled her in tight, fingers digging into her flesh.

"I'm sorry," she uttered gutturally and it was not an apology for her actions but for him.

"Sshh, I don't want to know," he said, pressing his fingers over her mouth. "Not one thing, not ever."

Wendy nodded, pulling his hand away and kissed him. Tears fell on his lips and he tasted salt in his mouth, like he was drinking her sorrow and could not stop.

* * *

**_a.n:_**

_that was a long chapter! So I think you can guess what may happen next...;)_


	5. 1927 (continued)

_warning: M rated love scene ahead._

* * *

Hidden behind the folding dressing screen in her cave was a door with no handle. He had tried to open it many times but it always remained stubbornly shut to him, though he could break it down if he really wanted to. As she lead him by the hand the door opened and he walked into her private room, her secret life. It was fitting as she had just sneaked a glimpse into something that was so private that even he did not have full access to it.

Since leaving the Dream Caves he had been quiet but he watched her like a cornered animal, watching for any sudden movements, any signs that she would divulge the thing she had experienced. She was dying to, she could feel the truth burning in her chest like a small sun, the words pushing up her throat to her tongue but she kept her teeth clamped shut. If she did, if she uttered what she had seen Peter would lash out or run, she was sure. So she did the only thing she could think of: she let him in.

"So this is it. I'm sure it's a let down after the wait," she said, feeling a little shy. She had worked hard to create the little details, the signs that it was a room lived in. But he only had eyes for her, watching her with a strange wary hunger, like he wasn't quite sure if she was safe any more. Wendy looked down, biting the inside of her cheek. She had cried herself tired in the cave, body shaking from shock, from a horror that was not her own. It haunted her, the feelings that he had once experienced, the pain and fear, the betrayal. She could still feel the way the water ran up her nose, filled her lungs as hands pushed against her chest, keeping her down. Except it was not her who had truly experienced that, it was _him_.

"There's this look in your eyes and I hate it," he said suddenly, finally tearing his gaze away from her to look around the room.

"What look?"

"Pity," he spat the word, snarling. He moved over to the window to look out but she made sure that the view showed nothing but the jungle. She had made the cot disappear before entering as that would have been a sure-fire way of setting him off. Peter glanced at her as he moved to the fireplace and threw himself into one of the armchairs. Logs were burning a little but the fire gave off no real heat. He watched her as she sat opposite, smoothing her night gown down over her knees.

"This will sound strange," she started and he gazed at her from under his brows, sitting like some bored king. "I won't tell you what I saw, not if you really don't want me to but you know it was terrible."

He shifted, jaw clenching. "I don't want your -"

"And it was everything I ever wanted," she confessed in a rush of words and he froze, mouth still open. Wendy felt ashamed to admit that, it was a terribly twisted want but there was a part of her that was rejoicing. He had felt such strong, powerful emotions once and not just fear but _love_. She had felt it, brimming through everything and it had been pure and fierce. That was why his pain had been so great, why his betrayal so intense and maybe why it still haunted his dreams. The spinsters said he had a pure heart once and for the first time she truly believed it.

Peter laughed after a long pause and Wendy felt her face burning. He leaned forward and reached out a hand to curl her hair behind an ear before rubbing a thumb against her cheek. His touch was oddly gentle and he stared at her in bemusement.

"You call _me_ twisted..." he muttered and drew her closer to him, so that his lips just brushed against hers. "Why am I here?"

"It was time..." she took his hand and rose to her feet. He looked up at her, pulling her close so that she moved between his spread legs and then placed his hands on her waist. She felt the heat of his touch through the cotton of her gown, the pressure of his fingertips as he pulled her even closer and her pulse quickened. Hair tickling his face she lowered her head until he was framed by golden waves, the fire glinting off her hair. He lowered his other hand, reaching down and rubbed the back of his fingers very gently against the side of her smooth leg.

Wendy brushed her mouth gently against his and drew back, two sets of green eyes gazing at each other as their breathing mingled. She teased him softly, lowering her lips to the corner of his mouth, barely touching him and his fingers dug into her side. Unable to hold back any longer he captured her mouth, hand delving into her hair and rose, pushing against her. Cupping the back of her head Peter deepened the kiss as her fingers curled into his shirt and pulled him towards the bed.

Her heart was pounding and she could hear a rushing of blood in her ears but she was sure. More nervous then she had been in her life but sure. She wrapped her arms around his neck, chest pushed against his as they kissed hard, their sweet teasing caresses now forgotten as they grew frantic with need. She reached for his belt, lips still on his and tried to unbuckle it as his fingers unbuttoned the top of her night gown, ripping a few in his haste. They broke apart, gasping for air and stared at each other like two people about to trek into the unknown.

"Have you ever...?" she breathed, suddenly wondering, and he smiled before kissing her again. Not actually answering her question Peter reached down and tugged up her nightgown and Wendy's fingers dug into his shoulders, heart jumping but it was not with fear but something close to it, something that made her gasp and her skin tingle. She pulled up his shirt, making him lift his arms and she pulled the clothing over his head, along with the netted under shirt, in one movement. Growling at being interrupted he grabbed her, drawing the gown up over her thighs, and then pushed Wendy up against him and lifted her up. Legs wrapping around his hips he laid her down on the bed, lips pressed against her throat and Wendy moaned. Years ago there had been an occasion where Peter had pinned her to the ground and she had felt something twisting up inside, something throbbing and taut and she thought there was a word that would release it and let the feeling roar through her. She knew it now but it wasn't a word, not really.

He moved between her legs, pulling her gown up to her hips and Wendy panted, chest heaving as she pulled him down for another kiss. She could not stop, did not want to release him. _And they think Peter possessive_, she thought as she threaded her fingers into his hair, tugging and he growled into her mouth. Hormones rushing through her blood she moaned and arched under him as he kissed her throat again, trailing a path down her skin to her chest. He had seen her naked, just small glimpses as she bathed or swam and she had witnessed the same with him, just curious, furtive glances that played on her mind. So removing her gown should not have been an ordeal but as his hands slid up over her hips and rolled the gown under her breasts she gripped his hands, stopping him.

"What is it?" he breathed as Wendy began laughing as sudden acute embarrassment waved over her and she threw an arm over her eyes. Peter smiled at her blushing, grinning face and pulled the arm away. "Its all right, you'll see. You know you're without compare," he whispered near her ear and he meant it.

Wendy smiled, that burning core in her chest and stomach jolting happily. She was vulnerable but she hadn't expected otherwise. She lifted herself up and he watched her pull the last bit of clothing over her head and throw it to the floor. She laid back down and he gazed at her with a mixture of something adoring and completely lascivious. He brushed his fingers along the swell of a breast and she released a long held breath, watching the way he caressed her before he removed the rest of his own clothing. Once done she pulled him down, loving the way he felt on top of her, skin against skin and she sighed before he kissed her tenderly. His fingers skimmed down the side of her body to her legs, spreading them slowly before letting his hand linger at her juncture. She inhaled, breaking the kiss and stared into his eyes with surprise. He kept the eye contact constant, gazing deeply and never looking away as his fingers dipped lower between her legs and her mouth parted, stomach muscles seizing as he touched her in a place she believed only she knew about.

Every gasp, every moan, every sharp intake of breath seemed to spur him on, fingers unrelenting and driving her crazy. She rose on her elbows, eyes fixed on his and she jerked and shook below him until the pleasure she felt made her whimper and beg but when she finally cried out his name he kissed her roughly, drawing his fingers away and she almost cried at the loss of stimulation. But he quickly moved between her legs, drawing his mouth away from hers and she stared at him, breathing heavily before nodding once. As he pushed into her she braced herself, holding her breath because she had no idea what to expect. She knew that it would hurt but not like that and she gritted her teeth, fingers digging into his skin and he stopped, gazing at her patiently even as he obviously strained with the need to move.

"Just a moment," she said breathlessly and he nodded. He grazed his lips slowly against her cheeks, nose, chin and forehead, planting feather soft kisses all over her face, making her smile softly before she gave him the go ahead with a look. Again with his eyes always on her Peter moved very, very slowly until he was inside her, his hands fisting the pillow either side if her head. He was panting now, mouth parted and she soaked in the look on his face, the amazement and something almost innocent. He did not pain her as he had but she was tender and so when he started to thrust experimentally she sucked in a breath but urged him on and soon the pain was almost something pleasurable. They kissed, rocking against each other as he thrust into her rhythmically and Wendy twined her arms around his shoulders, one hand in his hair as she began to roll her hips, meeting his movements without thinking about it.

"Why did we wait so long to do this?" he asked, laughing but the sound turned into a groan and he moved quicker, more frantic and she knew he was ahead of her, feeling a pleasure that she was just catching the tail of. Both sweating their eyes locked, breathing coming in increasingly quick bursts as they rocked, movements now lacking any grace or rhythm. He gripped the wooden bar above them and she released he still had his wrist guards on when she yelled, bucking under him and he suddenly choked on a breath, pushing against her hard and fast, making the bed jerk. Wendy could feel him stiffen, feel his muscles flexing as waves of pleasure rolled through her, one after another and a scream was trapped in her throat, too intense to free. He buried his face against her neck, moaning her name, fingers gripping her thigh hard enough to bruise as he spent himself inside her and collapsed.

Sated and exhausted they lay entwined for awhile, catching their breath and chests heaving until she began to stir. Wendy brushed her lips against his cheek, fingers twining in his hair and he lifted his head. So often she was reminded how he cared for her with a greedy, exclusive right but as she gazed at him she had never felt so possessive. He was _hers_, completely and utterly and no one could come between them. It was an odd realisation to have after so many years together but she was warmed by it and she kissed him gently, wanting him to know. _You're mine_.

He pulled away, blinking tiredly and she yawned, which made him laugh. He rolled off her and she clenched her jaw and swallowed, feeling how sore she was but she was too tired to focus on it for long. He laid down close to her and she settled her head down beside his, facing each other.

"Goodnight my love," she whispered and brushed her fingertips against his eyelashes and he closed his eyes. But before he did his eyes flared with such deep, fierce longing that she gazed at his face long after he had fallen asleep. She would remember that look until the day she died.

* * *

He woke before her, the sound of birds chirping heralding the dawn. She was lying on her front, deep asleep and he smiled at her. She was achingly beautiful to him and while he might downplay it he was always enraptured by her whenever she was close. He had spent so long alone that he thought before he pulled her out of the sea that he needed no one, that no one could touch him or affect him in anyway that could leave an impression but she had and would continue to despite his early attempts to deny it. He could not, _would_ not live without her by his side and he would do everything in his power to make sure nothing prevented that.

He had been furious at her invasion of his dreams but he had to coincide that the outcome was worth it. He played with her hair and ran his fingers gently down the curve of her back, not wanting to wake her, and glanced up as he pulled the sheet over them some more. He froze, staring at the end of the room with an uncomprehending expression. He blinked, squeezing his eyes shut but the thing was still there. He sat up.

"A cradle?" he mouthed, frowning in disbelief. A mobile was hung over it, comprised of feathers and seashells and he could see the white Never Bird feather he had given Wendy hanging at the centre. He tore his gaze away to stare down at Wendy, who still slept. This was her doing, he was sure of it and he started to suspect _what_ this room, this house, meant to her other than as a place of solitude and a reminder of an old life. He had not seriously considered it and he felt a flare of irritation, a writhing jealousy and he looked back at the cot with a glare.

Where the feathers had been rusty sheep shears now twirled, shinning duly in the morning light. His eyes bugged as he felt something crushing against his chest and he jumped out of the bed before he could stop himself. Wendy woke with a start, groggy and confused but one look at Peter made her sit up, sheet falling around her hips. He was white as a sheet and shaking and she felt a stab of dread and turned to see the cot in the corner of the room. She made it vanish so quick that she did not see what was different about it.

"Peter!" she started but he was shaking his head, harsh lines around his mouth.

"I can't, I won't," he only said and with a motion of his hand he was dressed and heading for the door.

"Wait!" she shouted, climbing out of the bed and clothed herself as quickly as he had and chased after him. She caught him at the bottom of the ladder but then moved back, not knowing what to do once she had him. He was breathing fast, fists clenching.

"Why the scissors?" he asked and she shook her head, not understanding and he gritted his teeth. "Over the cot!"

"There were no shears, only feathers and shells. I – I dream about it occasionally and I can't stop it from escaping sometimes. What you saw was just an echo, a ghost, nothing more," she explained and grew sad. He gazed at her intensely, as if he was unsure of her honesty before he slumped and rubbed a hand over his face.

"My nightmares used to escape me once. You'll need to practice better control," he said tiredly and Wendy nodded, looking down, feeling offended._ The cradle was not a nightmare..._

She did not picture the morning after she lost her virginity to end like this, though she had envisioned waking alone and prepared herself for that pain, so at least he had been there. When she felt his hand cupping her cheek, lifting her head to look at him she was relieved to see he looked a little abashed, or as sorry as he ever got. He smiled, titling his head.

"I don't feel like leaving yet, not after such a wait. I was looking forward to breakfast in bed," he said with a hungry look and Wendy smiled coyly, cheeks burning.

"Well we can't have that, can we?" she took his hand and lead him back up the ladder, knowing with a thrill that they weren't heading back for anything to eat in the traditional sense...

* * *

**_a.n:_**

_annnnnd there you go. Next chapter __shit will get real_...


	6. 1933 - 34

Since that night Wendy had shed any lingering fears or preoccupations about respectability or who she may disappoint. It wasn't only that she realised how useless it was to be so caught up in the customs and manners of another world but that soon she started to forget _why_ she should be so concerned with them. She knew that it was distasteful to people but she could not remember _which_ people and so not wanting to waste a second worrying about people who did not matter she embraced her life as Peter's consort.

Like newly weds moving into their first home they christened every place conceivable. Wendy was content with the bed they shared in her room but Peter was not. The entire island was at heart his chamber and with a dedication that half alarmed and half amused he would lead her down deep paths shrouded in ivy or up to high peaks hidden in mists with a look she now knew all to well. She had been slightly hesitant at first, worried that they would be seen – and she half suspected that was what he wanted despite his frequent assertions that he_ wasn't_ an exhibitionist – but the thrill and exhilaration she felt burned away her fears and soon she was the one grabbing his hands and pushing him down below her. He seemed to greatly enjoy her acts of dominance as much as the love making itself and sometimes that was all it took.

However his favourite sport was chasing her through the jungle. Sometimes she would read the hot, bubbling need on his face and she would quietly leave, making no outward sign of excitement but as soon as she cleared the camp she ran like the wind, knowing that he would not be far behind. Other times he would ambush her, giving her no warning or time to run and hide. This was not always welcomed and the unfairness of it stung, though the end result was always enjoyable, especially when she managed to escape.

"It's not fair! You can just appear in a blink and I have no chance," she said one morning as she went out to hunt with her bow and he had grabbed her and pushed her against a tree before she could react. She now straddled him on the ground, the clear victor and he cocked an eyebrow at her.

"I hardly think you're the loser here," he said and inhaled sharply as she rolled her hips, both still clothed. She bent down, eyes narrowed and tickled the feather at the end of her arrow against his chin gently. Over the years their coupling had become...interesting.

"Teach me," she demanded softly, trailing the feather down his throat and he smiled.

"Teach you?"

"I want to move as you do, to blink in and out of sight with a thought," she requested, eyes shinning with want. Over the years she had witnessed many things that Peter could do and wished she had mastery over them too. She was surprised to learn that little of it had anything to do with magic, which he said would be a waste on such cheap tricks. It was all down to a matter of will and a person's control over his or her surroundings. Peter had given her reign over her own land, something she suspects he never really intended to do but would he grant her more? She knew he coveted his position as leader and was loath to give anyone an upper hand but that denial did not stretch to her, not completely.

"Hmm give something for nothing? What would _I_ get in return?" he cocked an eyebrow, hands on her hips.

"The knowledge that you've done a good deed," she said mock seriously and he grimaced. He was more magnanimous then he had ever been in the past but she suspected that some of it was a pretence, though she hoped it was not always. He was largely self serving and did not do something unless he benefited from it in some way. That selfishness drove her mad and was one of the reasons why the merefolk did not conduct their business with Peter but with her, which she knew he secretly detested. She knew about his nightmares, about tiny glimmers of his past and she suspected that was like shards of ice under his skin, that she held that over him. He was so fiercely self reliant that sharing something of himself was seen as a weakness, especially something so vulnerable and private as his nightmares. She thought a part of him resented her for it. Leaning back up Wendy sighed and rose to her feet.

"Wait," he said suddenly and grabbed her hand. He moved onto his knees and she stared down at his oddly serious face. "I'll teach you, if it will keep you safe."

"From you?" she teased but felt something queasy coiling in her stomach. Once she condemned him for self deception but now she was no less guilty. He had not hurt her, not psychically but occasionally he could be mean, lashing out at her with words or sometimes none at all, targeting those she cared about instead. Mostly it was just petty, cruel jibes but it was always a reminder of what he was once capable of and what he could do again. Loving someone with a black heart was a pressure all on it's own and sometimes she felt she was holding back a tidal wave, just waiting for something to give and crash down on her. Self deception might be cowardly but sometimes it was what you had to do to sleep at night.

"Never," he whispered with a frown, getting to his feet and once again stirring her suspicions that he could read her mind. "I received intel about a possible threat, from a faction calling themselves the Home Office. They're small and no match for me but they want me dead," he explained flatly, looking irritated rather than scared.

Wendy stared at him in worry. "But they can't come here, can they?" she knew he had stopped access to and from Neverland by the use of beans unless he expressly agreed to it.

"No, I've made sure of that. Thing is..." he hesitated but then shook his head with a smile. "It's nothing but if something does occur I want you to be safe. I'll teach you to move quick but I'll do more then that," he said and withdrew his sword. "You should learn to defend yourself properly."

"You know I don't like them," she had her dagger concealed, something Tink had badgered her into wearing. She had never used it but after being attacked by Slightly and the other boys she had agreed to carry it. The bow and arrows were for gathering subsistence, nothing more.

"I pick Lost Boys who have the capacity to fight. What makes you think you're any different? You're my queen and I know you have it in you to fight viciously. I've seen it and I expect nothing less."

"As your queen?" she asked dryly. He may flatter her with such a title but she knows he actually regards her slow and unexpected elevation in rank with mild distaste. She could understand it a little, after hundreds of years ruling alone, answering to no one but his own whims and fancies it must be hard for him to adapt to such a change. It took him_ years_ to get used to sharing a simple _bed_ with her, so co-ruling the island was not an easy change and may never be fully established. Like he once told her Neverland was_ his_ island, not hers but Wendy had taken to ignoring these statements. She would do what she would with _her_ land and Peter could like it or leave it. However he had refused her requests frequently so this threat must be more pressing then he was willing to admit.

"Of course," he whispered, brushing his lips against her mouth, attempting to appease her and it almost worked. "I promise I'll teach you what I know. By the time I'm finished you'll be untouchable."

It was a promise that he regretted bitterly in hindsight and cursed himself for being soft-hearted and naïve to Wendy's well concealed guile.

* * *

If you ventured into Wendy's side of the island, maybe on a sunny warm day, when it was too hot to do anything but swim or sleep you might come across a sign post embedded in the earth. The sign had a simple but bold proclamation:

**NO BOYS!**

Of course Peter laughed in the face of rules but Wendy had threatened that if any boys were caught peeking the retribution would be swift and terrible. She knew that Peter would be the first to inflict pain on any trespassers, if he wasn't the one breaking the rule himself of course. But if you did follow the path after the sign you would find a deep blue lagoon surrounded by cliffs on three sides, with green foliage sweeping down the sheer walls like a curtain. It was a thirty foot drop into the water and their laughter and screams echoed off the cliffs.

"Watch out!" Tiger Lily yelled as she took a running jump off the cliff and dived into the water below. Of course as soon as she was submerged her legs transformed into a tail, a process that she seemed to love. Wendy laughed as a wave of water crashed over her head as Tink swan dived next to her, trying to catch the mermaid's fins. As the island's only three female inhabitants, Tiger Lily now a frequent visitor, it was a past time all of them needed but especially Wendy. It never failed to sadden her that there were no Lost Girls, a request that Peter had flatly refused.

"He's so pig headed sometimes!" she seethed as they all lay on their backs, watching the skies.

"Sometimes?" Tink smirked.

"What's a pig?" Tiger Lily asked curiously.

"Men," Tink and Wendy said in unison and laughed. The mermaid nodded knowingly before Wendy explained what a pig really was, describing it as something like a sea cow. Tiger Lily sat up, looking unhappy.

"Boys are stupid sometimes. I say what I feel, I make no illusions but they smile nicely, touch and dance but then hide and pretend," she said, eyes narrowed in annoyance and Wendy stared at her, feeling a swooping embarrassment. She was speaking of Rufio.

"I'm sure he'll come around," she said encouragingly but the mermaid pinned her with a look.

"How when you hold his heart?"

Wendy spluttered and sat up, face growing hot. "I do nothing of the sort, not willingly."

"I know you don't look at him in the way I do, I know you love another. I do not blame you, why would I?" the mermaid took her hand and shook it, showing that there was no ill feelings before speaking again. "This is my fault, I know that being with a human is impossible, my people usually forbid it but my heart will not listen to reason."

"The heart never does," Tink suddenly said. She had been quiet, introspective but now she spoke, sitting up. "Like you fairies are forbidden from falling in love with humans because we always outlive them. It's to prevent a pain, along with less unsavoury reasons," she said, her mouth thinning. "Love is just a joke."

"But I thought fairies were meant to help people find their happy endings?" Tiger Lily asked innocently.

"And look where it's got me! On a ship with a pirate who only sees me as something to warm his bed and keep him company," Tink answered, looking absolutely dejected. In fact it was the nearest she had seen the fairy to tears. Wendy put an arm around her shoulders.

"I'm sure he sees you as more than that. You never told him, did you?"

"I didn't have to, he could see it plain as day." she said sullenly, plucking at her wet bathing suit. Tiger Lily sighed.

"Here we three sit with our silly men: one with a love not seen, one unrequited and one loveless," she recited solemnly and Tink snorted.

"No wonder! You know I'm the reason he can't leave Neverland?" Tink suddenly confessed and Wendy leaned closer. She had never heard this.

"What do you mean?"

"Pan tricked me. I never told you but I've known Peter for a very long time, when he was different, when I thought he could still be saved. He used to call me his fairy," Tink confessed with a sad soft smile before it hardened. "Killian came, with his big ship and his swagger and broken heart. Pan wanted him for some reason, wanted him in Neverland but not connected to it like we were. He made me do a spell, one I thought Hook wanted."

"What spell?" Wendy asked, soaking in every word. Tink's past was usually a mystery to her.

"To keep him young, him and his crew. I thought I was saving him but Peter trapped him for over a hundred years and over that time his crew went stir crazy. I tried to free them and reason with Peter but he wouldn't listen. He said he had a plan and that Hook was part of it and that he had been anticipating his arrival for years. Then one day he let them go."

"Go?" Wendy knew that Hook ran errands for Peter, or at least he used to. The pirate had been very quiet since she had been there, hardly showing his face and she knew Tink kept him company. In fact she just about lived on the ship now. When Hook retreated Peter said he could sink into depressions that could last years.

"I'm sure you've wondered why Hook comes back once free of this realm, why he didn't just leave this island in his wake? The preservation spell I cast was just on his _ship_, not Killian and Pan made sure it could not be undone. You see if Hook ever sets foot on a land other than this island all those years will catch up with him and – and he'd die," Tink finished, breathing fast and hard. It had taken a lot to confess.

"He's cursed?" Tiger Lily asked sadly and Tink nodded, looking down. Wendy recalled an Irish myth about a mortal man who fell in love with a fairy and stayed with her for three hundred years. He left the magic island where they lived, his horse enchanted, but one day the girdle snapped and he fell to the earth and died. She wondered if the myth was about them, somehow.

"He gets a new crew every so often, before they get too old because he can't leave the ship any more. That's when Pan makes him do his dirty work."

Wendy's ears were ringing and she could not focus. Of course this should not shock her, should not faze her but she was sickened and a part of her was deeply relieved that she was still capable of such a reaction. She knew what he was, some of what he had done in the past but being reminded of it was always a terrible experience and made her question herself at a soul level.

"I – I'm so sorry," she started, not knowing where to start but Tink shook her head furiously.

"No, no apologies from you. You didn't do this, he did and those sins are his. Don't concern yourself with it."

"But it _is_ my concern. My so called loveless love has deemed it not worth his time to lift this curse or even _mention_ it to me," she said, rising to her feet stiffly. She was angry at him but more at herself. How could she be so clueless, so without questions? She knew deep down and it was a shameful thing. She did not want to know all his transgression for peace of mind, to forget that she did in fact live with a monster. But was she a person who ignored others suffering because it helped her sleep at night? Was she that person now?

"You seem surprised," Tiger Lily said and again Wendy felt her gut being hit. "This land is cursed," she said with a shrug but Wendy clenched her hands, shaking.

"It doesn't have to be! I can change it!"

"And that's the rub sweetheart, he won't let you do any more then change the weather," Tink said, not unkindly but Wendy would not hear it.

"We'll see about that!" She disappeared in front of them, leaving her friends stunned on the rock. She wished to see Peter, to confront him and concentrated on that as she blinked away from them.

* * *

She had been practising the ability but it was hard. If your mind wandered or if you were unsure you could end up anywhere. Wendy appeared not by the camp but before the Echo Caves, her mind consumed by secrets and darkness. However she was not alone.

"Rufio?"

He was coming out of the caves and looked startled to see her but then immediately grew serious. "I need to talk to you."

"What is it?" she asked as he motioned for her to follow him. They stopped in the mouth of the cave, not going any further and Wendy was glad. She had not stepped foot in there since that awful day when the pirates fell to their deaths. She had wanted to speak with Peter directly but there was something wrong with Rufio, she could sense it. He was sweating and his eyes flicked around nervously, checking if they were alone. Since winning that fight against Peter he had been excluded from the off realm trips that Peter and Felix sometimes took, as if as punishment. Since then Rufio's displeasure at Peter had been harder to conceal and Wendy prayed that he would keep a civil tongue for his own sake.

"I need to know something and I want you to be honest with me," he began, staring at her intensely and Wendy nodded. "If you could go home would you want to?"

"I can't -" she started but he shook his head.

"If you were cured, if nothing was in your way would you want to go back?"

_Nothing in her way? _She had barely let herself imagine returning home and seeing her remaining family again because she knew that it could never be. It was so painful to be reminded that once she had another life, another family and sometimes the magic that the pipes had weaved did little to fade the grief, at least in dreams.

"I – I suppose if I could move freely between here and there then yes, I'd like to go home," she confessed and he nodded, looking resolute.

"Then I will do what must be done because I can't stay here any more, not with him in charge," he said through his teeth and Wendy lifted a hand for silence.

"You know better then to say such things."

"I'm _sick_ of having to watch what I say or do! I did not come here to be subjected to a tyrant," he hissed angrily and Wendy froze. She knew he was displeased with Peter, that was obvious but she didn't realise how deep rooted the anger was. Peter had never trusted him and the feeling was mutual but Wendy never seriously considered those mutinous rumours to be true.

"If you want to leave then I'm sure I can speak to him," she offered gently and then gasped when he suddenly cupped her face.

"I don't mean to live without you," he breathed and his gaze was filled with an honest, simple love. Wendy felt her heart squeeze with pain, with the hurt that she was about to inflict but it had to be done because what was unspoken could not be any longer.

"I'm sorry, I truly am but I don't love -"

"I know," he interrupted, letting his hands fall away as he smiled gently. "But I think real love can mean loving someone even if they don't and being content with that. If you want me to leave, to never see you again then I respect that and I'll leave you in peace. I _swear_ that," he stressed and she knew he was honourable enough to do it even if it caused him pain.

"I don't want you to leave," she confessed. Peter joked about it but he_ was_ her champion, her captain as much as Felix was his. He protected her Lost Boys, gave them guidance and someone to emulate to a far greater degree then Peter ever did or could. He would make such a fantastic leader, she knew that but just not here.

"Then I will stay and do my duty to you. There are whispers about me, mutinous ones, ones that call me two faced, jaded and well...they're right," he confessed simply and Wendy stepped back, heart racing.

"Please don't say such things, you don't know what he'll do if he finds out," she said pleadingly and went to him, grabbing his hands. Rufio smiled sadly.

"You say you love him but you live in fear of him, of what he might do. He's unpredictable like the sea, calm one moment but at some point you know he'll get angry enough to drown you. I don't want that for you, you deserve _better_, this _place_ deserves better," he beseeched, impassioned, while Wendy was terrified. The moment he stepped out of the cave he was a dead man, she was sure.

"You can't take over, Peter would kill you first."

"Who said anything about me?" Rufio smiled and Wendy blinked, slow to understand.

"...You – you don't mean _me_?!"

"Who better than the Queen of Neverland? Think about it. People love you, your boys do and we've already seen that the merefolk only answer to you. Your name is being spread, there are wonderful tales about you now and people want to see you. I could do a better job than Peter leading this place, anyone could but _you_ are the rightful ruler. You will make this place into the thing it should be: a safe haven, a paradise. You're kind, you're _strong_ and you can make your dreams into a reality here. You know this isn't just about me and you, this is about the children that come here, expecting a better life only to be at the whim of a cruel demi-god."

"He's no god."

"Then why does everyone fear him as if he was? He wants everyone to because fear breeds control. He's been lying to you, keeping you in the dark," he added angrily.

"I know," she said and looked at the floor. "I just learned something else today, something awful. Peter is like a jewel you find on a beach, he looks so inviting but you know if you prise him up you'll discover something unpleasant underneath."

"You deserve better and I don't mean me. Do you really love him?" he asked, unable to truly believe it. Wendy smiled sadly and nodded.

"It's the riddle of my being."

"Be that as it may think on what I've said. You can rule this place, make it better and if you agree I will be by your side faithfully. I'm your captain, whatever your decision."

Wendy let herself imagine it, for just a fleeting moment. She envisioned herself on a throne, Rufio standing below protecting her as she welcomed guests, people who had heard of her splendour and wanted to see her in person. She would be courteous, firm and strong and help those in need. Neverland would be welcome to those in need, be it girl or boy. However throughout this fantasy she could not envision a time or place where Peter was not by her side and knew that it was pointless.

"It's just a dream Rufio," she said sadly, "let it go for both of our sakes. I care about you and I want you safe so please, just...don't."

"That's easier said then done. I'm not going to overthrow anyone, not without your say so but I promise you this: I'll do whatever I can to save your life and free you, no matter the cost."

"Cost?" she asked, wondering if he was talking about the cure he failed to procure for her.

"I'll pay it. I'm a Lost Boy, there are no innocents on this island and me least of all," he said and walked out of the cave, looking darkly determined and left Wendy staring after him anxiously.

* * *

That night, the night when it all fell apart, Wendy had been unable to find Peter, to confront him and she had a suspicion that he was avoiding her. She searched, growing worried that he and Rufio had fought or worse and found herself looking out to sea. Two low hanging moons stood large and clouds skidded across their surfaces. Sometimes there was more, as if one was not enough or Peter wanted to play havoc with the tides to spite the mermaids and pirates. It was one of those nights and Wendy shuddered at the moons, spooked at the sight even after all these years. It was unnatural and a reminder of how much power Peter could wield.

Finally she came across Peter and Felix standing by the rock pools, Peter with a telescope up to his eye. She looked out to sea and saw the _Jolly Roger_ bathed in moonlight, the closest it had been to the shore in years. Wendy scrabbled up the rocks and Peter gave her a passing glance before looking through the scope again.

"I see you've stopped long enough consorting with the enemy to visit me," he said offhandedly but she could see the way his jaw clenched.

"What are you talking about? Consorting?" she laughed but it sounded forced. Her heart was pounding.

"We both know you're a first rate liar but they don't work on me Darling," he said harshly and finally looked at her. He was actually angry. Peter was usually too in control to get honestly angry because almost nothing ever fazed him. He was a calm master of his realm because things always went how he planned them to. Except now it seemed.

"He's coming," Felix said quietly and Wendy turned to see a dark figure cresting the rock, stumbling a little. Peter smiled.

"Nice night for it Captain," Peter said cockily as the pirate took a swig of rum. Before he did he swore and Wendy was certain he slurred "little shit" under his breath.

"Now, now that's no way to speak in front of a lady," Felix said, pointing out Wendy. Hook froze and squinted at her, as if seeing her for the first time. He lowered the bottle of rum and looked sober for a moment. In fact he looked incredibly sad as he bowed to her respectfully.

"My lady," he rose and came closer, giving Wendy an opportunity to look at him after so long. He was still very handsome, in a debouched sort of way, and his baring was unmistakably that of a gentleman, despite his attire. Now that she knew his secret it cast him in a tragic light and her heart went out to him. She remembered once how he wished to save her, to take her home and she realised now why he could not.

_All the adults here are in such states of despair_ she thought, thinking about Tink who was often morose. Now she knew why, or at least part of it. Either way being an adult in Neverland was hell and she wondered suddenly who had hurt Peter in such a way that he was willing to make any grown up suffer so.

"Good evening Captain," she said politely and curtsied to him, making Peter roll his eyes. "Are you here to see Tinkerbell?"

She was not much of a matchmaker but by god she wanted them to have a happy ending if she had it in her power. _It would be if I was in charge_, she thought slyly and looked at Peter to see if he had caught her traitorous thought but he was staring at Hook intently.

"Good question. My flightless little bird is here but where is yours?" Peter asked and Wendy sneered at being addressed so. "I did ask you to keep her on the ship with you," he said and Wendy blinked at him in shock.

"She spent the day with Miss Wendy here, or so she said she would," Hook said but Wendy was focused on Peter.

"Why did you ask him to keep Tink on the ship?"

"Because he's a coward," Hook answered her and Peter's head shot around as the pirate grinned horribly. "You haven't told her, have you Pan?"

"Told me what?" she demanded and Peter sighed, glaring at Hook before he turned to her.

"Tink is a fairy and a fairy can only exist if people believe in them. I told you that belief, that _magic_ is dying and well..." he trailed off as Wendy put a shocked hand over her mouth, understanding.

Hook was grinding his teeth. "How concerned you sound! But I know the real reason you've kept her here all these years you bloody demon," he cursed him and Peter smirked in amusement.

"Oh careful there Killian, it almost sounds like love. You don't want to dishonour the memory of your _long _dead mistress," he said nastily. Hook's eyes widened and a second later he was drawing out his sword and rushing forward with a roar.

"Stop!" Wendy screamed as steel clashed. Peter had blocked Hook's sword with his own and they were straining in the air. Felix had moved before her, hand on his own weapon.

"You say one more thing and I will run you through, curse or no curse," Hook breathed, eyes blazing madly and Peter laughed.

"You know I like you_ far_ too much for that! However that was below the mark," Peter sighed, looking a little ashamed. "That was bad form, I apologise."

"Your words are wind. There are lands where men mine in caves filled with scentless, poisoned gases. One wrong knock of the hammer and they could all die without knowing it. They take a small song bird down with them in a cage and use it to detect the death they can not smell. If it stops singing they know their time is up," Hook said and looked at Wendy, the story for her benefit. "That's all Tink is to him: a bird in a cage and her time is running out."

Wendy, knowing exactly what he was referring to, stared at Peter in horror. "Is that true?"

Peter was grinding his teeth as fiercely as Hook had been, glaring hard at the pirate. "Once maybe but what of it? Yes when Tink dies I know I won't have long but do you really think I'm utterly incapable of caring?"

Hook snorted, lowering his sword. "I don't think you're even capable of _understanding_ it, let alone showing it," he said and motioned to Wendy sadly.

"Leave her out of this," Peter warned and Hook shrugged, all fight drained from him. Peter stared at the pirate captain fiercely. "I asked you to keep Tink on your ship not because I couldn't stand to watch her magic drain away but because I wanted her safe. She's _my_ fairy after all," he added, as if this was ample reason.

"Safe?" Wendy asked, concerned and Hook froze. Peter turned to Wendy, gazing at her softly.

"I know you're upset with me, I know that you've discovered things about me today, about what I've done in the past but I'm here to show you that I'm not heartless." He turned to Hook, inhaling deeply. "Tink was on your ship because I feared she would have been murdered if she wasn't."

"What?!" Wendy yelled while Hook stared at Peter, not sure what to believe.

"What are you talking about?"

"There's someone in my camp, someone who for some years now has battled with a choice. He made up his mind today and in doing so labelled himself traitor. Rufio, _her_ precious champion, wants to cure Wendy and will stop at nothing to do so."

"What does this have to do with Tink?!" Hook suddenly shouted, making Wendy jump. Peter smiled sadly.

"The only _real_ cure for Dreamshade calls for three ingredients: pixie dust, water from the fountain of youth _and_," he drew the last part out, possibly enjoying how they were hanging on his every word.

"And _what?!_" Wendy shouted, nerves now as frayed as Hook's.

"A fairy's heart."

Hook did not waste another second as he turned on his heel and ran into the jungle, screaming out his lover's name. Wendy stared at Peter, more appalled at him then she had ever been in her life and ran after Hook.

* * *

Tink woke, feeling groggy and wondered how much she had to drink when she froze. She felt..._strange_, oddly hollow and sat up. Or tried to, someone had bound her arms and legs and there was a gag in her mouth. She was in a dark cave.

"I'm so, _so_ sorry," a shaky voice echoed and Tink looked up to see a crying boy walking towards her. He was Wendy's favourite Lost Boy and Tiger Lily's unrequited love and suddenly as she saw the thing he was holding she knew what he was to _her_. He was her death.

Her heart throbbed hard in his hand and she started to struggle as his fingers squeezed.

* * *

**_a.n:_**

_Happy Holidays!_


	7. 1934

"Stop!" she shouted after Hook but he was too fast for her. Even if she caught up with him she knew that he would not be reasoned with, she had seen the white blank shock on his face turning into something insane and knew nothing would get through to him now.

_Peter's fault, it's all his fault!_ she screamed in her head, feeling as mad as Hook looked. The awful truth of what Peter had spun into action was just settling over her mind, blanketing it in disbelief and betrayal but it was too painful to really inspect and so she ran harder, fuelled by terror and a building rage.

"Wait!" Peter shouted behind her and the sound of his voice sent a shudder up her back and spike of fear through her belly. She could not let him stop her so she thought of the Echo Caves, the last place she had seen Rufio and focused her mind on it, willing herself to appear there before Peter caught her.

The caves, as stark and imposing as they always were, reared up before her suddenly and she skidded to a stop. Wendy looked behind her, hearing someone faintly rushing through the jungle and knew that Hook was not far behind. Praying that he was there she ran into the caves, running blindly.

"Rufio!" she yelled and his name vibrated around her as she came around a bend in the path and found a small cavern lit with flame. Tink was lying on the ground, bound and gagged, and at the sight of her friend Wendy rushed forward but Rufio suddenly shot up before her and Wendy gasped.

"What are doing here?" he shouted and his voice was rough. He looked awful, like he had spent hours crying and shouting but it was more then that. The fire and laughter that Wendy had so adored was now drained from him and he looked like he had aged, if that was possible. But she saw with a swooping relief that he still held Tink's heart in his hand.

"No! You don't have to do this! You _mustn't_!"

"You think I want to? I've been sitting here for hours, too coward to squeeze hard enough," he said and looked down at Tink with a wretched expression.

"That's not cowardice! That's compassion, that's _kindness_ and all those things that I picked you for! You're better than this!" Wendy cried and wrapped her hand around his wrist, staring at him intensely. "Stop this, leave Tink unharmed and come away with me," she urged but Rufio shook his head, defeated.

"We both know I'm not making it out of here alive. Don't give me that look, I know what's coming. I just hoped I'd be able to save you, free you before I did. This was his trap, his web and I fell into it long before I realised what it was," Rufio said through his teeth and Wendy gazed at him miserably.

"This was your secret?" she whispered and he nodded.

"And Peter's. You know he's been lying to you from the start, don't you? He's known that there was a cure but he did nothing to make sure you got it. I couldn't understand why, not at first but I do now. He wants you trapped here, like something in a cage and you've got no say in it because that's what he wants," Rufio hissed, shaking and Wendy looked down, unable to look at the rage on his face that was mirroring the boiling sea inside her.

"He – he must think I'm an idiot," she uttered, shaking not with fear but fury now. "I spoke with seers once and they told me, _they told me_ that I'd rule like a queen but really I would be no more than a bird in a cage! He's planned all this, masterminded it like a spider in a web."

"He's not human, he's not like you and me. He knew what I was doing, he never said anything but he knew. I think that's why he let me go with him and Felix, he wanted to see how far I would get and stop me if I got too close, like it was a _game_. When I angered him he grounded me, trapped me here like you. That's why I had to resort to this, I could never get a heart, they were too rare. He gave me no choice and that was his plan all along," he said bitterly and they stared at the fairy heart in his hand. It was shinning bright but pulsed faintly.

"There is a choice and you know it. My life is not worth this and I refuse to see you become a villain because of him. This is what he wants and so we must not give him the satisfaction," she said and Rufio nodded and finally lowered his hand. He stared at Tink in shame.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't go through with it and I wouldn't have, I swear. Tell her that?"

"You tell her yourself! I knew you weren't capable of this, that's why you're _my_ Lost Boy," she smiled and it flickered on her lips weakly as tears stung her eyes. "I'm sorry I ever brought you here, you didn't deserve this."

"Neither do you. I'm not sorry I'm here because I met you," he answered softly and Wendy stared down, too choked with emotion to speak. She could feel it now, that tidal wave that she had been so good at repressing, so good at ignoring was starting to waver and froth. It was colossal and she knew she didn't have long before it all came down.

"I'm sorry I could never -"

"YOU!" the word roared through the caves, bouncing off walls and deafening them and Wendy gasped as Hook appeared, billowing and red faced. He was beyond out of control now. As his frenzied eyes saw the heart still in Rufio's hand the pirate snapped completely and he ran forward, screaming something undefinable and Wendy moved in front of Rufio without thinking about it, screaming for him to stop.

"No!" Rufio yelled and roughly pushed her aside where she fell to the floor. A gasping, strangled noise suddenly echoed around her and she looked up to see Hook stabbing Rufio through the chest, piercing his heart.

She wanted to scream, to tell him to stop and wait, to show him that Tink was safe but it was too late. Rufio fell to the ground next to her, eyes open but sightless and she flinched as the sword was roughly pulled out. She stared into his glossy, vacant brown eyes, stared at the lips that were parted in pain and she could not look away. Just as something seemed to crack in Hook something equally fragile snapped in Wendy.

"You're safe, you're safe now Bell," Hook whispered and Wendy watched but could not really take in that the pirate was returning the fairy's heart and then ripping the ropes and gag off her with shaking fingers. As he lifted Tink into his arms Peter appeared.

It was just a flicker, just a quick flash of emotion that could have been easily missed but when Peter saw his rival lying dead on the floor he grinned viciously and his eyes flashed with a giddy dark triumph. It was over before she could really process it, before his expression shifted into something genuinely concerned as he spotted her on the floor.

"Wendy? Are you all right?"

She stared at him for a long time, blinking and then began to laugh. It was a laugh the likes of which he had never heard and one she thought incapable of sounding before that day. It was skin crawling and terrible.

"Am I all right? _Am I_? I don't know. Do you think it's fit for me to be all right? Isn't that up to _you_?" she asked with an awful grin that stretched her mouth and Peter blinked, mouth curling at the corner in uncertainty. His gaze swept to Hook who was carrying Tink and nodded at the pirate who barely seemed to observe him.

"I've lifted the curse Killian, it's gone. You're now free to seek your revenge and I think you'd best be served by starting in the Enchanted Forest," Peter said and Hook blinked at him, as if waking from a dream. He gazed down at Tink softly.

"The deal was not needed, I would have run him through without it. But you knew that..." Hook said quietly, not looking up and without a backwards glance he left with Tink.

Now left alone, Peter standing in the mouth of the cave and Wendy cradling the dead Lost Boy, the two remained in an awful strained silence, the air thick and charged. Finally Peter lifted a hand and motioned his fingers at her, asking her to come to him.

"You can't do anything for him now, come on," he urged gently and her burning eyes snapped to his.

"Never, not ever again. You've betrayed me! You wanted this, you _made_ this happen! As soon as I saw him, as soon as I wanted him, you put a mark over his head. He was dead before he even set foot on the shore!" she accused and started to shake harder.

"I didn't kill him, that was -"

"YOU! Do you think I'm a fool?! Oh you must, how you must laugh when I'm not there," she cried out, her words ringing around them and Peter narrowed his eyes, thinned his lips as if she was screaming right into his ears. Wendy lowered her face and kissed Rufio's forehead and gently closed his eyes before she struggled to her feet. There was blood on her now and Peter eyed her carefully, watching her every movement but all she did was stand and sway, strange eyes pinned to his own.

"I don't think you're a fool, I never have," he replied softy, his tone calm and body still, the opposite to her rage, her stinging words and wavering figure like she was fire instead of something solid.

"But I am a fool! I knew you were lying about a cure, of course I knew! I wanted to believe you _so_ much, I wanted to stop doubting you because I was so tired of it and knew that if I did I'd never stop! I wanted to be happy with you and to live here in peace but I had to delude myself into thinking that you were something else and it changed me!" she cried, voice cracking and tears ran down her face.

Peter remained still, not knowing what to say or do and was deeply uncomfortable. He had dealt with her grief before, her anger and resistance but not this fractured disappointment. But he had to try, had to salvage it somehow and for the first time in his long, long life he wished he knew how to truly comfort her.

"You have changed but for the better. You're stronger here Wendy, you're important. You're important to me, in fact you're the only thing that matters," he confessed but she was shaking her head hard, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Lies. You don't feel anything, not really, only thirst for power and control, spite and cruel enjoyment at the suffering of others. I wanted to believe that you could give more, that in time it would come but I knew deep down what you were. Did you think I could forget? You _kidnapped_ me, you made a mockery of me in front of my family!" Her eyes snapped open and her gaze was dreadful to see. "Oh how you must have been secretly rejoicing when my parents died. I bet you couldn't believe your luck!"

"That's not true," he denied quickly, a little too quick.

"You've taken_ everything_ from me! My family, my home, my life! I pushed aside my grief, ignoring it like it was not important and now, now I can't even remember what they look like. My brothers did not get that luxury, they had to deal with the pain but at least they didn't get to see that I've become a coward," she confessed, crying silently before she bared her teeth and pointed at him. "Name one good thing you've done for me that didn't benefit you in some way?!" she asked out of the blue but he was quick to respond.

"I gave you half of my island!"

"Not willingly! You hated having to share something of yourself, just like your nightmares. But I took it as if it were a gift, as if it were a sign of something that you couldn't really show me. I wanted it, to share your bed and your kisses, living for those moments when you smiled at me, when you showed kindness or more. I just wanted it to be real," she admitted and he gazed at her intently.

"It _is_ real. You know I care for you."

"People who care don't do this, don't inflict this much pain and _smile_ about it. I've tried to ignore this for far too long, pretending that I had some control over you but in the process I've become someone else, someone I don't want to be," she admitted, looking self disgusted but Peter shook his head, trying to smile.

"You're a queen," he said but Wendy laughed again.

"I'm queen of a cage! You trapped me here _again_, you made sure of that and I just went along with it! And do you know why? Because it was _easier_ than facing reality! I've been living in a dream but I tried to do some good, to help others but how was that ever going to be possible? Rufio was right, you're like the sea and one day you would sweep away everything I worked for because you could. Here's the first casualty," she said, staring down at the body. "This cursed place, this place where actions have no consequences or repercussions! His death will never be avenged, never be mourned except by me and...oh!" she gasped suddenly and covered her mouth. "Tiger Lily..." she stared down in misery and slowly shook her head. "This is beyond reason, this isn't fair! He wasn't going to go through with it but now he'll be known as a traitor," she groaned, pointing down at the dead boy at their feet. Peter's jaw clenched and he exhaled through his nose, suddenly irritated.

"He_ was_ and I'm not sorry he's dead!"

"I don't doubt it! Be truthful, come on, don't stop there!" she cried with a sudden mad smile and came forward. She stopped when she was a foot away and jabbed her finger against his chest. "No more secrets, no more lies! I always told you they were better off your chest and by Christ you must be practically choking on them!"

"He wanted this island! He wanted _you_!" Peter seethed, hating how histrionic she now was.

"He never wanted Neverland but yes he did want me," she breathed, still smiling. "You know what his plan was? He wanted _me_ to overthrow _you_ and become a true Queen in my own right, with him as my captain."

Peter's gaze became cold and his mouth started to curl. "That would have been something to see _Darling_, shame it won't happen."

"I turned him down because whatever I imagined you were _always_ beside me and we ruled as equals. That's why I knew it was a dream," she admitted sadly and the coldness in Peter's eyes melted a little.

"It doesn't have to be a dream. I could do that, I _want_ that," he whispered and cupped the side of her face. "You asked for truth and I'll give it. I can't love you like you want me to, you've _always_ known that but I _do_ love you. I wish our lives had gone down that other path, back in London. I really do but this is it until I win, until I get the heart. After that I can give you everything you want."

Wendy shook her head sadly. "No you won't because you'll fail but you can't accept it. I know what you're capable of showing and despite that, even now, I still love you but it's not enough and I _do_ deserve better. This isn't worth my soul. Indifference is worse than being evil because when it comes down to it I wanted to pretend you could change so I could _sleep_ at night. But it's not possible, my dreams are bloated with the death of my parents who died thinking that your love was worth more to me than theirs. Maybe that's true."

Peter was shaking his head, trying to stare into her tear filled anguished eyes. "That's not true. You did choose them over me and you've just convinced yourself otherwise because the truth is too painful. I've taken your home away from you because you're right, I am a monster but not heartless. I hoped that in time you'd see this place as your only home and I withheld the cure because I can't bare the prospect of losing you. We belong together, we always have and I can't risk living without you, not any more."

"Peter Pan has a weakness," she said softly and touched his lips with her bloody fingertips. He pulled back, blinking and tilted his head at the strange smile on her lips and wondered if he had finally broken her.

"You'll be okay," he said with something close to honest compassion. "You'll see in time that the things that once hurt you will stop and soon nothing will get to you," he said and unthinkingly tapped over his blackened heart. Wendy blinked, staring at his chest and something rose up in her, something bright, free and _terrified_ and she knew what she had to do. Feeling galvanised she placed her hands against his chest and gazed up at him softly.

"I _will_ be okay," she said encouragingly and leaned up to kiss his mouth gently, eyes focused on his before pulling back. "Just not with you because I can't live like this any longer. I don't want to turn into you and if I stay I think I might. You disgust me and I never want to see you again."

Wendy suddenly vanished in front of him, leaving Peter to blink in shock. He had told Wendy that over time the heart becomes impenetrable to pain but as he realised what was happening something sliced through his heart, making him gasp and his eyes sting. He was _hurt_. She had got through to him, as surely as Hook's sword had pierced his rival's. Reeling and feeling the first licks of rage Peter spun around and bellowed out his lover's name before disappearing from the cave in pursuit.

* * *

Her first thought was the Dark Hollow, where the beanstalk was but Peter had frozen the use of them and even if he hadn't they were useless to her. She would die if she left Neverland and that was unavoidable, Peter had seen to that. So she went to the only place she had even the slightest power and appeared before her Dreamshade covered cave. She knew that he would be coming for her so she used every trick she had been taught, throwing obstacles in his way. She brought down trees, diverged paths and lead him to dead ends but he had taught her everything she knew so he threw them right back at her. She ran towards the narrow stream that cuts off her land from his and saw with shock that the bridge was gone. She turned as rain began to lash down furiously and lightening flickered. The weather had always been indicative of Peter's moods and right now he was battling with a terrible inner tempest.

Not knowing what he would do once he caught her Wendy jumped over the rushing water and then focused on the stream. With every scrap of imagination and strength of will she could muster she made the water rise until the stream was bursting it's banks and rushing down the hill towards Peter's side of the island. She believed with such desperation, her freedom and sanity at stake, that it became so powerful that when Peter suddenly appeared he slammed into the waters and stepped back, looking shocked.

"You can't come any closer," she shouted, shaking with the effort to keep him at bay and he cocked an arrogant eyebrow but his eyes were terrible to behold.

"_I can't_?"

"Just leave me alone. I meant what I said," she warned him and he smiled at her but then the expression faltered when she turned her back and he held out a hand. He really couldn't move any further and he was secretly confused and disorientated. Maybe it was because she was his True Love that she could master such control over something that was basically an extension of himself. No one else could.

"Wait! If you really want to play this game then fine but you've got to know you have nothing to fear from me," he stressed and she turned in disbelief.

"Do you even hear the things that come out of your mouth? I will not risk becoming corrupted like you and it's already started."

"You can't believe that? Wendy there's only one person on this island with a spotless, unsoiled heart and I'm looking right at her. If you really don't believe me I can show you, I can _prove_ it," he said sincerely and held out his hand for her. "Just come with me."

"Leave this place, if you really do care for me after everything you've done then please respect my wish," she said and began to climb the ladder and forcing herself not to turn around she disappeared into the cave. She kept her tears back until she came to the screen and then ran for the door, heartbroken as sobs escaped from her mouth and she slammed the door closed behind her, sealing it.

Peter stared at the cave, the waters she had made rise still flowing, blocking his path. He could make it retreat, he could cross and force her back with him but he remained still, thinking. He knew that she would be upset but he had not seriously considered that she would do this, her love had been too secure, too easily accessible to think that she would ever put her own needs before their relationship. He had taken her love for granted, not counting on how fiercely moral she still was and he was paying the price for that now. She was still on the island, she was going nowhere but was he expected to make good on her request?

"You just need time," he whispered, hoping that she could hear it. "I'll leave you alone but like I told you once before you'll come back to me because the alternative is not something you can endure."

He would allow her this breathing space, show that he could be reasonable but as he turned back something twisted in his stomach and he found it hard to concentrate on where he was going. When she had bared her soul to him, revealing what she really thought of him he felt a pain go through his chest and instead of fading it continued to throb horribly. Not someone whoever regretted his decisions because he did not care enough to he battled with an old and now unfamiliar emotion and walked back to his camp overshadowed by an angry regret. Not for Rufio, he'd gladly see him dead a hundred times over, but for what it had cost him.

Rain pouring down around him Peter looked back with a gaze filled with bitter disappointment but such weakness was loathsome to him and bordering on defeat. He hadn't lost, he was just bidding his time before he made his next move and he could be very patient. So he bowed with a tiny smile, waving his hand like she had just scored a well deserved point and vanished, leaving the cave isolated and half drowned.

* * *

**_a.n:_**

_Sorry for the rough emotional ride! I hope people will understand where Wendy is coming from but don't worry, the ship still floats. Peter will find ways to get to her..._

_Thank you for the amazing responces I've received, they mean so much to me! You're all brilliant!_


	8. 1935 - 39

It rained for years. It poured constantly, with little respite, apart from when the sun managed to break through the grey clouds but a heavy vapour would rise so that it made little difference if it was raining or not. The land became muddy, soggy and horribly humid and the Lost Boys were more often than not found sitting under their dripping tents, bored and miserable. They felt envious of the boys that Peter had sent home after Wendy had closed herself off, wishing that _she_ had been the one to pick them instead, so Peter could send them away out of spite too. At least they'd be dry. But here they were with a leader who still laughed and played games but for all his efforts could do nothing about the weather. Those that had been there long enough knew not to question it but the newer members were growing restless and curious about the nature of their seemingly young leader and the girl who seemed the root of it all.

Terrible storms battered them for months after the separation and there would not go a night where thunder did not boom or lightening flicker as they tried to sleep. Felix had adapted a keen weather eye and he knew better then to ask how Peter was doing emotionally, he only had to look at the sky. He knew a little about the nightmares, early on Peter had shared a tiny amount of what he could remember but that had been years ago. He thought that Peter had a handle on them but now the island was literally shaking and drowning in his anger and sorrow. It had to change or they would find themselves washed out to sea.

The flooded stream around her cave rose, effectively making another island out of it so that you had to use a boat to ferry from her insular land to Peter's. She had some land to grow and catch food but soon it was not enough so every morning Felix, on Peter's orders, would send food on a raft over to Wendy, like he was trying to appease some angry goddess. He often wondered why Peter did not just starve her out but it seemed he underestimated Peter's depth of feeling and was secretly very rattled by it. If she relented and forgave Peter then things would go back to normal. At least that's what he hoped but it was humiliating having to act as a go between, like some surly Puck, and not for the first time he wished Peter had never laid eyes on Wendy Darling.

* * *

Lightening flashed, casting her room in an electric blue light and Wendy groaned and threw an arm over her face. She had spent years creating her surroundings but sometimes she could not keep his theatrics out of her skies. She used to be relieved at such displays because it proved that he could feel but now she was sick of it. After the separation she had welcomed the storms as the terrible commotions in the sky reflected her inner turmoil and she had wept as bitterly, as violently and thought that nothing could match the pain that she felt but week after week it raged with no sign of abating. Soon her hurt numbed, became quiet and inward growing until she had stared out of her window at the rain pelting against the panes and wondered how someone so callous and emotionally shallow could possibly produce such a show of unrelenting suffering. It was demonstrative and excessive, like a child throwing a tantrum and it seemed that Peter's could last for years.

The grief and betrayal had laid her low and she spent many weeks just staring vacantly out of her cave, watching the stream turning into a lake until she was cut off. It made her feel strangely content, the isolation, as if she was protected but she knew that Peter could encroach on her privacy at any time but as the weeks lengthened into months and he did not appear a part of her was relieved that he had respected her wishes. However there was not a day where Wendy did not think on the transgressions and betrayals that Peter had inflicted on her and soon she found her grief and sorrow solidifying into something hard. Now with nothing but time and solitude to be introspective Wendy observed her character and found it lacking, just as she looked upon Peter with a weary disgust. She had left Peter feeling ashamed of herself, for her acts of denial and was beset for weeks with a prickly self reproach, when she was not crying for Rufio and the loss of contact with her friends.

But there came a day when Wendy sat up and knew that she had a choice; she could either dwell on her perceived failings, wallow in her sorrow for how many more countless years she had left or she could learn from them and make something of herself. This was her life, though it was not one she desired but she did have an opportunity to change it, to shape it as she saw fit. She had no limits but that of her imagination and so as thunder rumbled one dull morning Wendy rose from her bed and faced a mirror.

"I am now thirty six years old and I have been here _eighteen_ years. I was born at the turn of the century and I come from London. My family...my family," she hesitated, trying to recall their faces but only her brothers came vaguely to mind. She could picture a boy in glasses, the eldest boy, and a smaller boy clutching a teddy bear. Baelfire was just a name now, just a shadow of a boy who wore a red dressing gown that was still on the island. Her parents were no more substantial in her mind then smoke and so she left them alone, not wanting to drift apart what little memory of them she had. She focused on her brothers, squinting her eyes at her reflection as she concentrated.

"I have a brother called...Michael? And..." she desperately scrabbled for the other name. _Joe? Jack? _"...John!" she shouted and lightening flickered as she clapped her hands together in success. However it was a pyrrhic triumph because she knew that recalling her brothers should never be something she should fight to do. They should be the first thing she sees waking and the last thing at night and she knew that somewhere he brothers have not forgotten one single thing about her or their parents. It was a horrible sensation, knowing that you've willingly scrubbed away parts of your life. Sometimes it happens naturally, you just forget aspects of your past that once may have been important at the time but then new things came along to replace them. But that should never apply to beloved family and that was what Wendy had done.

"Those pipes, those bloody pipes," she muttered, looking back at the decision her younger self had made in a moment of great weakness and wished that she could go back and snatch the panpipes away from her. She would tell her that an eternity of grief was worth it if you get to remember why you hurt so much in the first place. She loved her family and remembering why would have been worth all the sorrow. She had searched through drawers for an old journal she had used to write about her family but it was gone and she knew that Peter must have taken it at some point. She had cried and raged bitterly about the theft but going back and demanding it back would be what Peter wanted. She would not give him the satisfaction.

Wendy sighed, staring at herself and not for the first time felt incredibly restless, like her very cells were itching to move but couldn't. She was stagnant, stuck in this young body while her mind was racing ahead and it always left her with a sense of great dissonance. She should be _older_, she should be rounder, softer, fuller and maybe even taller but she never changed. She only had to guess what sort of woman she would have grown up to be now. In her thirties would her hair have subtle streaks of grey in it? Would she have stretch marks and scars? Would her hair be a totally different colour? Would she wear make up and cover herself in jewellery or would she be more demure? Would she still be kind? Funny? Strict? Loving?

"Would I have a job?" Wendy asked her reflection and it nodded back at her. "I would, they told me so." An actress on the side but her main responsibility would be taking care of orphans, possibly running a house. She very vaguely remembered that her mother would take in strays and she would find the parlour occupied with cats that her mother had been too soft hearted to refuse. Would she be equally as compassionate? She imagined it, how the property would be so full of children that she would need to move into another to house her _own_ family.

_All girls..._

"All girls with blonde hair and green eyes," she whispered and her gaze flicked to the crib still standing at the end of the room. When Peter shared her bed she had been careful to keep it hidden but now his rather delicate sensibilities did not matter. Only what she wished and dreamed about mattered and here she did not have to be devoid of them, in fact she was blessed. She may not be able to get pregnant, not in a place where time stood still. She could not really take care of orphans or share a house with a husband and girls in London but here...

"I am queen. This little island is mine and I'll do as I please," she said quietly and then ran to the window and threw it open, her restlessness driving her almost mad. "YOU HEAR THAT? THIS IS MY ISLAND AND YOU'RE NOT WELCOME!"

Thunder boomed in answer and she could feel it shaking through her. Rain lashed at her face, soaking her hair in seconds but as she closed the window and stepped back she was dry and smiling and the sky outside was now blue and spotless. If you concentrated hard you could hear a distant pattering and rumbling but it was far off and unimportant.

* * *

Peter was patient, it was one of his finest attributes and he had honed it over many many years. He had been waiting for the Heart of the Truest Believer for centuries and has done so with a steadfast resolve, knowing that one day his time would come. That day was fast approaching and the years that he had endured would finally be worth it. However the owner of the heart wasn't even born yet so his restraint was not as tested as it could be. But as he found himself waking alone, spending month after month with bored boys and a sullen Felix he experienced a restlessness that he had felt only once.

He had lasted just over a year after banishing Wendy from Neverland before he could take no more and flew to the boarding school she had been shipped off to. He had done so because he missed her, there's no point denying it, though he had been careful not to show it because the feeling was as alien to him then as this gnawing regret was to him now. He would not admit it but as the weeks passed and she did not return he sunk lower and lower into a feeling that was so utterly repellent and he could do nothing to contain it and now it was visible for all to see. He wanted to ignore the storms and rains, wanted to brush it off but it was one of those unlucky side effects of being master of Neverland; whatever he could not control in himself was reflected back in the land and right now he was practically on his knees begging.

"This can't continue..." he muttered in self disgust and was yet again secretly bewildered that she could have such an impact on him. He prided himself on his sense of control, not just of himself but over others but this was such a mockery. She unknowingly had him clutched in her hand like a ragdoll and could shake him whenever she wanted and he hated it. She had called herself his weakness but it was only now that he saw how true it was. He had purged himself of all things that could hurt him, that could make him feel small or vulnerable but now he was suffering by his own actions.

"I should just rip it out and be done with it..." he grumbled, feeling his heart beating in his chest steadily. He had considered it but the truth was he hated the feeling of being heartless. It was a hollow, bleak existence and though he knew the pain would stop he was not a coward. He could face his mistakes but he didn't have to admit complete defeat.

Hook had left with Tink, just as he assumed would happen and once Tiger Lily had found out who had killed her beloved she had followed them out of his realm in pursuit. It was ironic really, one sad lover on a quest for revenge chased by another. Once it would have amused him greatly to see the ripples of pain that his actions had created but now he could not care less. His plan had backfired and he was paying for it. It was a horribly helpless feeling and as it started to rain harder Peter got to his feet, teeth grinding and headed towards the only way into her cave without being detected.

* * *

The woods were dappled with late summer sunshine and through the leaves he could make out the sky. It was clear blue and not a cloud besmirched it. He allowed himself the freedom to sigh in relief. Constant rain could get you down no matter who you were so as he walked along the path his step had a spring in it, even as he stared around in confusion. He could hear laughter through the trees and followed the sound, stepping off the path.

_This seems familiar_, he thought but quickly brushed it aside. It was like any old wood you'd find in England, filled with oaks and birches but still something tight twisted in his stomach and his eyes snapped to every shadow or flick of a leaf. It got so overwhelming that he forced himself to stop, closed his eyes and squeezed his fists. He smiled.

"It's just a dream, _her _dream. Pull yourself together," he commanded and opened his eyes. He had promised Wendy that he would leave her alone but he made no mention of her dreams...

Peter walked on, following the sound of laughter but that tight ball of anxiety still settled in his stomach and he hated it because it was familiar and very old. He walked on and on, the woods as sunny and enchanting as ever but the laughter seemed further away, echoing strangely until he stopped again and looked back. He had passed that tree stump before _and_ that chestnut tree. He was going around in circles. He was lost.

"No," he whispered and stared ahead, listening for the laughter like a predator sensing prey. He was not lost, he's never been lost in his life and he would not start now. This was probably down to Wendy, she could probably feel him in her dream and was punishing him for it. Peter laughed. "IS THIS THE BEST YOU CAN DO?"

"No men allowed," a voice said and Peter looked down in surprise. A blonde haired, green eyed girl was pointing a short, glittery wand at him. She had to be no more than four.

"I'm not a man," he asserted curtly and smiled winningly at the girl but she narrowed her eyes and poked him with the wand as if were a spear, a spear covered in colourful ribbons.

"No boys either!" she threatened and then ran. Bemused that he had been threatened by an imaginary child from Wendy's mind he followed after her, jumping over logs and rocks but the faster he ran the greater that pit of anxiety inside seemed to coil until when he finally burst out into a clearing he was almost overwhelmed to see her wonderful face. It was so intense that he did not take in what he was seeing until Wendy rose from her plinth and pointed at him.

"This is your dream? You're a may queen?" he asked, deeply amused as Wendy blinked in confusion. Around her throne were girls of different ages in all manner of fancy dress sat at white spread tables and eating jelly and cakes. _Rule Britannia_ played overhead, echoing around them strangely. It looked like a picnic, a celebration and it was clearly an inverted version of his own camp. The little girl with the wand ran to Wendy and whispered in her ear as Peter waved a hand.

"Are these your Lost Girls?"

Wendy stared at him open mouthed, the garland like crown upon her head fading until suddenly the girls and the tables laid with food disappeared and he was standing face to face with her. Having her so close after so long apart made the cocky smile on his face drip away until he was gazing at her with a hungry longing.

"What are you doing here? Am – am I dreaming?" she asked and Peter smirked a little. God how he wanted her.

"Of course. It's quite revealing actually," he said, looking around the woods where she imagined her base camp to be. "You dream that you're like me."

"No! I dream that I'm the _opposite_ to you! You can't be here! Get out! You promised me!" she cried out in desperation and Peter shook his head.

"I've stayed away from your cave, from your little _island_, but I said nothing of your dreams. You sneaked into my most private dream, why should I not pay you back in kind?" he asked and a small, very neglected part of his mind wondered why someone so intelligent would say such stupid things.

"So this is pay back for what I did years ago? You think you haven't hurt me enough?" she asked, tears in her eyes and she started to fade slightly, as if she was trying to wake up. Panicked he grabbed hold of her but his hand floated through her arm.

"No! Wait! That's not why I came here, I'm sorry," he confessed quickly and Wendy stilled, staring at him strangely.

"You're sorry? Is it really you or am I dreaming this?" she asked in quiet disbelief and he managed to smile.

"I'm real. I didn't come here to fight,"

"No but it just comes naturally to you," she remarked and crossed her arms over her chest. She was dressed as some fairy queen, all green lace and silks. She looked beautiful. But her pretty eyes were glaring at him. "So you invade my dream to apologise? Will you invade the next one to say sorry for sneaking in this one?"

"Only if you want me to."

"I think you know the answer to that," she replied darkly and Peter sighed. That inexplicable ball of fear – because that's what it was, no denying it – tightened and he cleared his throat.

"It's been some time now Wendy. Years. I've given you space, like you wanted but how long do you expect me to wait?"

Wendy shrugged. "For as long as I need. You can't just apologise, even if you mean it, and then expect things to go back the way they were. You had Rufio killed. You lied to me. Sorry won't cut it. I feel sick looking at you," she confessed in a soft voice and he smiled and looked aside.

"I know. I've never had to deal with this before, a plan coming back to bite me. I had it all worked out, every little thing, down to the finest detail," he said, closing his eyes and imagining it. "I've been doing it for so long that I thought it was all I could do."

"But it wasn't always so?" she asked quietly and he opened his eyes and gave her a weak smile.

"Once...I miss you," he breathed quietly but Wendy was staring over his shoulder in horror. Peter spun around and that ball of fear that had been so tightly contained now unravelled and fear flooded through him. Standing in a golden beam of sunlight was a cradle but one with scissors hanging above it, like a nightmarish version of her feather mobile.

"What is that?!" Wendy hissed and eyed him furiously. "Is that you? Did you make it?! What kind of sick, twisted mind -"

"No...I never...It – it's a memory," he finally confessed and stared at Wendy with large eyes. Before he had trained his mind to contain his nightmares he used to see the horrible crib constantly, amongst other things but as the years went by he could never really remember what it meant to him. Wendy had been sucked into his nightmare once and now he suspects she had taken it back with her, like the nightmare had seeded itself unknowingly in her mind. She had no control over it, making the crib appear in her room once as she slept and he wondered what else she may have seen, not knowing the significance.

"A memory? What sort of memory is that?" she asked, shaking and Peter shook his head.

"It – it was an old one, my first memory, maybe. It was when...No, I can't. I want to wake up. You're doing this, you're pulling these nightmares out of me like you did before," he accused, focusing on her face rather than the horrors that probably lurked through the trees.

"What are talking about?" she asked, looking more concerned then she had any right to be. He had hurt her so much, took so much from her but he could still see that she loved him. Peter backed away from her.

"I've said too much already. I just want to forget but you won't let me," he stressed and something cunning slowly came over her features as she realised what power she now wielded over him. He had just handed her it.

"I'm sorry that these things haunt you, I truly am but stay out of my mind. I don't want to hurt you but I will," she warned sadly and that horribly helpless feeling he had once experienced as a child washed over him and he woke gasping for breath. The sky was practically trying to tear itself apart from the sound of it but the storm did not matter. She had bested him and now he had no other route to her.

"Damn it!" he shouted and the cave shuddered around him.

* * *

Another year past and over time Wendy became like a myth, especially to the newest recruits. Some mornings she would find little tokens and gifts that some adventurous boy had pushed out on a makeshift raft or leaf. She would find dolls, scarves and even rings but mostly she would get letters and notes and all of them consisted of the same message:

_Please come back and stop the rain._

It was at these moments when she felt the most tested, aside from those glimmers she had of Peter. He usually had Felix deliver her food and though it stung her pride to accept she did so. You could not live on make believe food, not even in Neverland. Sometimes he would send her over trinkets and jewellery himself. Mornings would come, almost bright and dry, with boats piled with beautiful dresses and other clothes but Wendy pushed them back. Her forgiveness was not so easily bought, or so she thought. One morning boats full of books, music and newspapers arrived instead and Wendy had been deeply conflicted. She had an active and vivid imagination but she was starved for stories, music and want of news. He knew that and as she gave into defeat and emptied out the boat of its precious cargo the clouds above parted and the sun shined. The only thing he seemed willing to omit was the one thing she really needed: a cure. Wendy did not forget that as she curled into an armchair and cracked a book open.

He had invaded her dream only once and though she worried that he would do so again it seemed his unexpected fear of his past overshot his need to spy. Sometimes she would hear the music of Peter's flute and peek out before she could stop herself. Now he resorts to sitting on the other side of her lake and though Wendy had a whole other life she could not stop herself from observing him from a distance. She had not forgiven him or forgotten but she was curious about how he was. As she sat and watched she battled with an unwanted feeling, one that flared up in her at night when she was alone and made her cry. She missed him, despite the life that she had now substituted for him and his island. _She missed him_ and nothing could really change it but she tried.

* * *

Wendy and Peter had once playfully made a suggestion that every year they would spend time with each other in their respective homes. During the winter and spring she would fly to Neverland and stay with Peter but then as summer arrived he would go back to London and live with her. It was an arrangement that never came to fruit but it was something that Wendy always looked back on thoughtfully. Now it was an unfulfilled promise made real, or as real as it could ever be and right now behind the screen in her cave it was mid summer in England, 1939 and war had just been declared, though you would never know it.

Morning light filtered though the net curtain over the window, softly bathing the bedroom and waking her. Downstairs she could hear the girls talking and knew that they would be up soon to disturb the peace. Wendy lay on her front and watched the curtain lift in a breeze and settle, a rhythmic motion and she was almost pulled back into sleep when she felt his fingers tracing a pattern down her bare back and his breath played against the nape of her neck. She smiled, trying not to make a sound and bit her lip. He could surprise her sometimes, wake her up with a kiss or slip into her bed at night, too tired for anything else but the warmth of her body against his. He came back every year, at the height summer when the girls were home and as always she hoped that this would be it, this would be the year he stayed. But he never did.

"You go down," she mumbled, too tired to move and he laughed behind her.

"I just got here."

"Exactly," she replied smartly and then laughed when his fingers dug into her sides and she screamed, rolling into a ball and trying to get away. "I hate that," she moaned breathlessly.

"I know..." he said and relented his assault and Wendy turned on her back. He was gone, escaping downstairs before she could retaliate and she could hear the squeals of delight and excitement from down in the kitchen and his responding laughter.

Wendy closed her eyes, savouring the sounds and feeling of bliss that billowed through her. It was perfect, everything was just as she always dreamed_...but it's just happening in my head..._Wendy screwed her eyes up tighter, trying to banish the thought but it would not leave. It was one that plagued her, one that would not be overshadowed with the happiness and contentment she now felt, one that she had experienced for years now. This was the life she always wanted, with the man she wanted. Man, not boy. She was no longer stuck as a seventeen year old but as a woman in her prime, a woman in bloom and one that did not want to look in a mirror and see the truth.

Why should this be a lie and Peter's island the truth? Wasn't Neverland as much of a fantasy but one of his design? Here it was bright, changeable and happy while out there it was miserable, stagnant and gloomy. Compassion, love and family were paramount here and that would never be available out there, not with him. If she had to dream it into reality then so be it. And yet sometimes she could hear the distant rumbles of thunder and at night her room would flicker with blue light until she could take it no more and would leave her home and venture out of the cave, back in her true form. There she would listen to his sad music, music that had no effect on her memory any more, though she could hear every wavering sweet note of it. It was so sad, so _lonely_ that her resolve to never see him again weakened and she was conflicted. He had promised her that she could not endure a lifetime alone but it seemed neither could he.

She was shutting herself away from him for a reason and it was not an act of punishment as he believed. The thing that she feared the most was not that Peter would be cruel to her, lash out or make her miserable but that one day she would find herself doing exactly the same back with equal lack of regard. The island was cursed and she did not want to wake up one morning and look on others around her like they were no longer people but disposable bodies easily replaced. She did not want to turn into Peter. She hated what he had done, the pain, torment and death he had inflicted. She hated his callousness and his ability to play people like there were no more than puppets. He did not care who he hurt or how much destruction he could spread, the capacity had been burned out of him long ago but still, _still_ she hoped that he was not beyond saving.

_The most cursed thing in creation..._The warning that the seers had given her still circled her mind after years but also another saying about Peter: _his heart was pure once._

Years ago she had decided that she would not return to Neverland with Peter because she did not want to watch him walk towards his own destruction but what was she doing now? Could hide in her own happy world while knowing at some point it would all crumble down around her? Could she sit back and do nothing as that happened? Who would save her and the things she loved? Who would save_ him?_

She knew that there were tiny glimmers left of the person that he once was, painful shards that contained his awful past but along with it was his ability to really love. It was something she had felt once in his nightmare and sometimes she wished she had not been privy to it. She never truly believed that he had any real capacity for affection, nothing deep, but what she had felt had overwhelmed her in its magnitude and with it came _hope_. Something like that, something so vast did not just fade away or become smothered into complete submission. She believed that he loved her, in his way, but if he could just face his past, remember and accept what had happened then maybe he could reclaim what he once was. She felt the answer lay there, in his past just as once his salvation lay in the land of his birth. It was possible but a possibility of a hope was an awful thing to cling to...but also the best.

She did not have to concern herself with this but who else would? She could go back, forget him but she may as well ask to stop breathing. This was the right thing to do and _this_ was the person she was. Someone who did not sit back and do nothing but fought for what she believed in. She just had to find a way and so she thought hard, trying to recall everything that Peter had told her or what she had accidentally found out about his past. Tink was gone with Hook and the mermaids stayed well away, the sea now as tumultuous as the skies. Felix would laugh in her face if she asked for help. Finally it came to her and she smiled.

"The Never Bird."

* * *

**_a.n:_**

_I know this was quite fragmented but it was spanning a few years. Hope you liked Wendy's fantasy life, though it's really tragic at it's core. Never Bird next and the Darlings are approaching soon..._


	9. 1940

Peter inhaled sharply and got to his feet. He could feel the ebb and flow of the island, was deeply entwined with it on a level that no one could really conceive. That was why he had almost died when his connection with the island had been severed while in London, like he had been a fish ripped out of water and expected to adapt to the air. Right now he felt something different; Wendy was on the move. For awhile now he had watched her every morning as she walked around the top of her cave but recently she had started to lift a hand to him in greeting. It was a small sign and she never said anything and disappeared before he could move but it was a start.

"Where are you going?" he mused and half smiling left his hollow tree and pursued her but kept a distance. Sometimes she would leave the cave at dawn or dusk, likely because she was bored silly, and roam around but never too far and avoided doing so if there as anyone near. She had turned into some shy woodland creature, like a badger but he knew better then to underestimate her now. Badgers don't let go of their prey until they hear bones crack.

Peter paused as he felt Wendy's presence become faint and he knew she must be on water now. He could still sense her, he could feel everything in the seas as he could on land, and right now Wendy was headed towards Skull Rock. The small island was off limits to everyone but those he gave express permission to visit, which was only Felix. Wendy had seen it from a boat but did not venture further, deterred by the horrible visage of the place, which was the point. She had told him it was because she did not want to see the hourglass but it seemed she had changed her mind.

"What is she doing?" he frowned and disappeared, leaving the jungle around him stirring and buzzing, the air still heavy with condensation after the last rainfall.

* * *

Skull Rock was just as foreboding as the last time she saw it and she focused on the entrance – _not_ a screaming mouth – and tied her boat to a rusty spike. She thought the terrible storms might have destroyed it but it still stood. Tendrils of lose hair whipped back and forth in the wind, she had gathered the mass up and tied it into a messy bun before heading out in the boat. She inhaled, absent-mindedly fingering the old thimble she still wore around her neck and headed into the dark gap, trying to ignore the fact that she was heading into something that was effectively Peter's tomb.

He had told her once that early on he had found a small hourglass that over time got larger but the sand continued to pour. The sand trickling down was his remaining years and it was now slowly running out. Wendy moved up the roughly hewn steps, boots splashing into puddles and walked into a massive cave that was practically smothered in vines and seaweed. It seemed that the storms had done some damage, a wall at the back had partially collapsed, wind whistling through the cracks loudly.

She was not prepared for what she saw. The hourglass was huge, stretching up to the craggy domed ceiling and light glinted dully off the smeared glass. It was neglected, years worth of salt and wind almost making the sand inside impossible to see but she could make out something glittering within. She could hear a persistent susurrous as the sand poured before collecting at the bottom half of the glass. Seaweed covered the base of the hourglass but she could make out a huge pile of skulls and bones, as if it was propping it up. Wendy stood back, taking it all in and crossed her arms.

"It's a bit melodramatic," she remarked to herself and behind her someone began chuckling. Wendy turned, quickly pulling out her sword and pointed it at Peter. She knew he would come, knew he wouldn't be able to resist and so her first thought was to arm herself. He calmly leaned back, eyeing the weapon thoughtfully.

"You've been practising?"

"Yes."

"Good." he said and meant it. He had been teaching her, before they hit their snag, so he was pleased to see that she still took his warning seriously. He wanted Wendy to be able to defend herself. However he hadn't really imagined he would be on the receiving end of her sword, only in his dreams and they were a lot more fun.

"What do you want?" she asked, sharp point still at his throat. She would not harm him, not unless he gave her reason to. She felt vulnerable being face to face with him after so long, his gaze too penetrating but then he smirked. For all of Peter's expression she may as well be pointing a feather at him. The smugness was unbearable.

"Well, I was curious. You haven't been outside in years, at least not this far. Why come here?"

"I was also curious," she answered, moving back but kept her eyes trained on his face.

"Well there it is, my own personal countdown," he moved to the hourglass, ignoring the wavering sword in his face. Wendy licked her lips, hand sweating on the hilt. She didn't know why she was still brandishing her weapon, only that it made her feel better.

"How – how long do you have?"

"Oh about sixty years, give or take," he said nonchalantly. Wendy stared at him sadly, weapon finally lowering.

"How can you be so flippant? Why aren't you using this time to change what's going to happen?"

"Why on earth would I want to do that?" he asked, truly confused and Wendy felt like rushing at him. He was so obtuse, so arrogant still. Had their separation done nothing?

"You know when I left I hoped that you would take that time to reflect, as I have done, to think on your life and what choices you've made. But you're still pig headily heading down the same path, making the same stupid decisions."

He laughed in shock, eyebrows almost jumping into his hairline. "Stupid?"

"Yes, stupid! You know I came here to help you, despite everything you've done. To help you and everyone else here because you obviously won't do anything to _really_ save yourself," she said, jabbing the point of her sword in the sandy ground. All this had been building in her for years and only now had an outlet. Peter sneered.

"I told you years ago that you wouldn't find some little boy in here that needs rescuing and that hasn't changed," he said through his teeth, humour gone. "I don't need help, I don't need saving."

"Rubbish. You've been spending centuries attempting to save yourself but only in the way you think matters. And why else are the Lost Boys here if not to help you?" she cocked an eyebrow, waiting for an answer, watching Peter roll his eyes because she had got him there, she knew it.

"They're here to help me win. They do as they're instructed."

"They are not pawns for you to move and dispose of! There are more important things in life than just winning!" she cried and came forward but stopped herself. Peter eyes flashed darkly as he shook his head.

"No there's not, not when it concerns this place. I know you think I'm some power hungry madman but this goes so far beyond that. You don't know."

"Then tell me!" she gazed at him desperately and Peter looked aside, jaw clenched. Wendy blinked, mouth open. "You...you don't remember do you? You don't know why it's so important that you succeed, only that you must."

Peter shrugged. "I know I'll die and this place will be no more, that's enough," he gazed at her, his displeasure turning into something warm until he appeared to be drinking her in. "You knew I'd follow you, knew I'd come. I know you miss me...leave this place with me, don't go back there Wendy, it's been long enough."

Wendy shook her head. "Not yet, I must do this even if I get nowhere."

"I don't know what you hope to find. There's only one way to save my heart and he's so close now," he sighed, hungry eyes losing focus. Wendy gazed at him sadly.

"We both know there's another way. You could leave."

"Leave?" he smiled in disbelief, as if she were mad.

"You could go back to London, or some other place in our world. Your heart would be healed, like it started to become. You just have to reattach your shadow and go," she reasoned softly but knew that she was losing him.

"You think I'd leave this place now when I'm so close? You think I'd leave _you_?" he moved up to her, reaching for her face but Wendy leaned back, lifting the sword again. She looked disappointed and angry.

"And it didn't cross your mind once that I'd _leave with you_, did it? That would mean freeing me," she showed him the black dot on her arm, the poison in her veins, and his mouth thinned. "Not once have you offered to cure me."

"You're not sick."

"That's not the point you bastard and you know it! Pretty dresses and all that rubbish but the one thing that I really need you still withhold. You don't care and _that_ will be your downfall!" she moved back, once again wondering why she was set on saving him when more often than not it appeared there was nothing left to save. But for all her anger and disgust she could not stop hoping because so much hung on it, her life for one.

"You think I won't give it to you because I don't care? I've just spent _four years_ proving it!" his eyes flashed angrily and his teeth bared. "If I gave it to you you'd just leave!"

"You don't know that because you've never given me the choice. You're too scared," she whispered and he blinked. That was his problem at the core, he was frightened of losing her. Wendy felt sadness clawing up her throat, tightening it. "You realise that if I come back to the camp things will be different between us?"

"In what way?" he asked sullenly, hardly able to stare at her.

"Well for one I won't share your bed. They''ll be no kissing, no touching, none of that. I won't be like that to you any more," she said and it hurt to say. He stared at her in horror.

"Why?!"

"Because it wouldn't be right."

"Who cares about right?" he yelled, approaching her and she moved back even more.

"I do! You betrayed me and I still have some self respect left. Even if I forgive you it doesn't excuse what you've done. I can't give you what you want."

_Otherwise it will be like he's won_, she thought quietly but that was like playing games and this was more important than that.

"You're just doing this to torment me. Haven't you done enough?" he raged and Wendy felt like she had been punched in the gut and she laughed in amazement.

"You're unbelievable. Do you know why I've been able to endure all these years and you haven't? Because I have a life worth living and if I have to stay here then I must protect it. If that means saving you than I will. This is my life and if I am ruthless with it then that's all down to you."

"What life?" he demanded but Wendy would not answer. He had backed her against a wall and the only way of escaping was up. She knew that she had to run, there was something in Peter's eyes, something fragile and insane that was about to snap. He would not let her go this time. She saw a gap in the wall and some crumbling steps and scrabbled through it. Once she was outside she could reach her boat and escape. She was not skilled enough to travel over sea to land with a thought, not yet anyway.

"Stop!" Peter shouted and instead of being angry he sounded panicked. Wendy ran up, falling over loose stones until she came out into a darkly lit rooftop, situated at the back of the rock. Above her a curved wall of stone shot upwards, completely covered in vines. It was massive. Wendy scrabbled around it, looking over the edge and she saw that vines cascaded down into the waters below. She could climb down. Peter appeared, staring up at the green wall before him and took a step back. Wendy forced her hands into the green foliage, looking for something to grip, and the sword still in her hand collided with something solid.

_CLANG!_

What Wendy had taken to be no more than stone rang through the air and Wendy dropped her sword as it vibrated violently in her hand. She had hit metal.

"Fuck," Peter whispered and she looked back to see him standing in the doorway, staring up in dread. Wendy stood back, trying to make out what it was when the plinth she was standing on started to tremble and she threw out her arms for balance. She could make a distinct shape out of the metal thing now; it was a dome.

"What is this?" she shouted but not waiting for an answer she grabbed hold of the vines and pulled. They ripped away in clumps and she used all her strength to clear it away until she could make out some details.

"Stop!" Peter yelled again but did not come any closer. Wendy stared at the thing she had unveiled in confusion.

"It's a cage?" she had uncovered a door but the bars of the cage were still hidden under leaves and seaweed. Finally she turned to Peter for answers.

"Well done Wendy, you've discovered the Never Bird," he answered dryly, still looking at the cage hesitantly, like it could explode any second. "Now get back here."

"You've kept it in a cage!?" she shouted furiously and grabbed the handle and was about to open it when she was pulled back roughly, Peter's arm around her waist but she held onto the handle.

"Don't let it out!"

"Get off me!" she screamed and clawed at his arm, kicking back at his legs until his grip loosened. Wendy ripped the gate wide open and Peter dropped her suddenly, so Wendy quickly blocked the doorway with her body. He moved forward and slammed his hand against the door to close it but it was too late. Something inside started to stir and the rock they stood on shook violently.

"You've woken her!" he shouted and there was a definite note of fear in his voice now. Wendy wanted to laugh in his face but the look in his eyes was pure panic.

"But it's just a bird..." she stared up, hands curling around the bars either side of her and finally saw the infamous Never Bird.

She had imagined something like a peacock and she was right except this peafowl was the size of a bus. Once she had jokingly imagined riding on the Never Bird, not realising that she could quite comfortably. It was huge, it's tail feathers a dozen meters long and almost reaching the bottom of the cage. It's talons were sharp and long, deadly and she knew they could slice through her like butter. Once the bird must have shone pearly white, it's feathers gleaming and once flared it must have been achingly beautiful to witness. But after years of being exposed to the elements the bird's plumage was now dull and bedraggled. It was perched up high, it's crested head hidden under a wing but as Wendy gazed open mouthed the bird lifted it's head up and stared down at her. It's large eyes flickered like blue fire and it was _cold_.

"Peter," Wendy breathed, unable to take her eyes away from the stirring bird.

"It's okay, just don't make any sudden movements," he whispered. At the sound of his voice the bird suddenly stood and Peter grabbed Wendy but it was too late. The gate swung shut, locking Wendy in.

"Peter!" she shoved on the bars and he pulled but it would do no good. She was stuck and the bird above was shaking it's feathers out. She repeated his name, heart racing with fear and he pressed himself against the cage, staring at her intensely and she felt his hands curling around her own on the bars.

"You'll be okay. I know you'll be okay," he said breathlessly.

"What – what do you mean?" she was shaking now and if she wasn't so scared she'd be practically alight with embarrassment. How on earth had this happened? She had wanted to find the bird but not like this. Peter stared at her intensely, eyes locked on hers.

"The Never Bird has always been on the island, it's here for a purpose. Look behind you, move slowly," he instructed and Wendy craned her head back. She had overlooked it at first, thinking it was more vines but as she stared she could make out a clear T shape.

"Scales?"

"Yes. The Never Bird is used to weigh hearts. A feather is placed on one scale and a heart on the other, to check if they balance."

"W- why?"

"To see if they're pure or not," he explained very quietly, never taking his eyes off her. His mouth curled. "That's why she's in a cage Wendy, she kills anything with an impure heart."

"Oh god," Wendy gasped and stiffened but he cupped her face through the bars, smiling.

"You have nothing to fear. Remember I told you that you're the only one on this island with a pure heart? That I could prove it? I meant that."

"She won't eat me?" she was still shaking but started to take his words to heart. It had been a doubt that gnawed at her, whether she was still pure of heart or not. It seemed Peter was the only one who never doubted.

"She _much_ prefers me. She's the only thing on this island that can kill me. If she got out she'd lay waste. You'd be the only one left standing."

"You did this once?"

"Yes and I walked out. You will too," he leaned through the bars and kissed her forehead and Wendy captured his mouth as he pulled back, unable to stop herself. All the angry words and restrictive measures that she had just expressed seemed as flimsy and ephemeral as the sand pouring in his hourglass. She kissed him hard, years worth of pent up longing and love pushing her against the bars. She only pulled back when she felt something soft brush along her cheek and looked down to see a large white feather floating to the ground.

"You have to do this now, she won't let you leave until you have. Pick up the feather and place it on a scale," Peter instructed as he took her hand and then waved his fingers over it until her skin shone. "This will stop it from hurting."

_My heart,_ she thought and placed a hand against her chest as she snatched up the feather. It was beating hard against her ribcage, the only thing keeping it in place. Wendy closed her eyes and only opened them when red light shone through her lids. Her heart was beating in her hand, shinning and bright. She had not felt a thing.

"See? Not a spot on it," he said proudly and Wendy smiled weakly, thinking how odd it was that Peter Pan was proud that she was a good person at heart. She turned, still staring at her heart and on shaking legs she walked to the weighing scales. Her feet sunk into what she took to be dark sand but it was lighter, puffing up in the air as she disturbed it. Glancing up at the bird, who was watching her patiently, Wendy crouched down and inspected it. It was not sand but _ash_. The dark grey matter completely covered the ground but directly under the perch a large pile of it was gathered. Wendy stopped at the scales, mouth open in wonder and gazed up at the Never Bird.

"Are you a phoenix?" she asked but the bird just blinked at her. It made sense, an immortal bird on an island that never ages. She did not know if she was right but as Wendy placed the feather down she thought the bird looked incredibly sad, something in it's eyes almost human and she wondered how long the bird had been caged for. It wasn't it's fault that it was forced to spend an eternity with impure boys but she was the one made to suffer. It was an injustice but Wendy knew despite how bad she felt she could not risk Peter's life.

"And your heart," Peter broke into her thoughts, rousing both Wendy and the Never Bird. Peter avoided looking at the bird and she could see why. Every time he spoke it's feathers ruffled in irritation. Wendy moved to the other scale and gazed down at her heart. It was unblemished, there was not a mark on it and yet she hesitated. Peter had placed his pure heart here once but now look at him.

"That won't happen to me," she vowed quietly and placed her heart on the scale and stepped back. The wind stopped blowing, the very air was holding it's breath as the scales swayed, moving from side to side until finally they settled and balanced. Wendy grinned up at the bird and watched it incline it's long neck to her. She had passed and the gate behind her swung open. The door was not made for the bird, it never had been.

"Come on Wendy," Peter urged, not daring to go in any further but held his hand out. Wendy stared up at the Never Bird as she replaced her heart.

"I don't have any right to ask for your help, not while you're in here but I hoped..." she trailed off as the Never Bird flew down from it's perch suddenly, wings powerfully buffeting the air, and Wendy was stuck to the spot as the bird started to sing. The sound was beyond beautiful but heart wrenchingly sad and as she listened she realised that she had heard it before. It was Peter's lullaby.

Instead of taking her memories away the music did the opposite. Wendy was suddenly flooded with images and sounds that were not her own, a bombardment of old memories that made her reel. She saw the island back when it was young, back when it was not a jungle but filled with oaks and pines. She saw the Never Bird in the large beautiful filigree cage, hoovering in the air over scales shinning in the sun as two people approached. Peter, looking no more than twelve, stopped at the scales and placed his heart on the plater as a winged woman in blue stood outside, smiling encouragingly.

"I was right, you are the one," the fairy said, shaking with some undefinable emotion as the scales balanced and Peter smiled. It was not a smile full of maliciousness or arrogance but simple childlike glee and his heart was not just pure but shining like it was made from spun gold. And finally Wendy understood what Peter had forgotten and as the bird flew back up Wendy approached him sadly.

"What is it?" he asked curiously and she wondered if he had heard the bird song at all.

"I saw things, I saw your past. It was _you_ Peter, you once owned the Heart of the Truest Believer. It was _yours_."

He gazed at her warily, not comprehending but then his gaze became hard and he laughed. "Don't be ridiculous."

"I saw it, it's true. You've forgotten Peter, just like the spinning sisters said," she stared at him with pity and it was the one thing that could drive him off.

"No, it's not true," he swore and glared at her but she just continued to gaze at him with a seemingly unlimited amount of compassion.

"You stopped believing in yourself," she said softly and his eyes flared with a painful remembrance before he suddenly vanished, leaving her by the cage alone.

* * *

**a.n:**

_I think the Blue Fairy is shady as hell. __More to come!_


	10. 1940 (continued)

Peter stopped in a clearing, feet rooted to the earth. He wanted to go to the camp, to surround himself with the familiar and controlled, but he couldn't move. Wendy's words echoed through his head incessantly and when he squeezed his eyes shut he could still see her pitying look. _He had forgotten_. He was the Truest Believer or he had been a long time ago and he had spent centuries non the wiser. How could he forget something so vital? He barely had any memories of his initial stay in Neverland and the time before that was just a blur of bad dreams and vague feelings. Once he must have remembered and the knowledge must have ate him alive. Sometimes it was better to forget.

He stared through the trees, eyes glaring and intense, and tried to suppress the helplessness that wanted to claw up from his chest. He hated, _hated _feeling out of control and not having ownership of your past, of your _life_ was a terrible thing to face. Existing with that queasy unknowing, that uncertainty had propelled him into becoming who he was now. He could control his environment and the people around him as easily as breathing and over time he felt assured of his position, of who he was and his importance until his blank page of a life was unimportant. Now he was scrabbling for purchase.

_Wendy knows..._

It was a thought that made him simultaneously grimace and ignite with a strange burning warmth. There were only two people he trusted in the world and that was Felix and Wendy. Felix would stick with him through anything, he knew that but Wendy? Her trust was not as implicit, it was taut and hesitatingly given and he knew that if she had to she would use this knowledge about him to her advantage. No one had ever had something over him and for the first time in his life he was in someone else's power and it was like needles in his skin.

He had followed her to Skull Rock with every intention of bringing her back with him, drag her screaming if he had to, but now he hesitated. He could sense her entering her cave, felt the way her presence became faint like it always did, and his hands curled into fists. He wanted her, he had missed her more then he had ever conceived possible and when he thought that her life had been in danger something inside him had cracked. He had no memory of loving anything or anyone so he didn't know if the heart crushing pangs he felt was love, he had nothing to compare it to but Wendy was the one person who could produce it and it made him feel unbelievably vulnerable.

_I suppose that's love._

He stared down, exhaling and began to smile softly. If he was faced with a threat to his power he viciously destroyed that person with relish and at that moment Wendy was his biggest threat. But only if he viewed her as a danger. He could not imagine spending the rest of his life without Wendy, the separation had proved that he was incapable of it. He would kill, maim and scar anyone that tried to take her from him but what could he do when she was the one running from him? Hurting her was the thing that drove her away. He wanted every little part of her, nothing withheld or denied but if he expected that wouldn't she expect the same in kind?

She had learned some, she now owned fundamental knowledge about him but could he do more? Relinquish a grip that had hardened and fortified over years by control and forgetfulness? He had wanted to believe his past was no more than bad dreams, to forget but whenever he attempted to delve deeper he had always backed off, the process painful and all but impossible as the years progressed. He had faced it alone but not now.

"I have to try," he whispered and behind him leaves ruffled in the breeze, as if excited by his decision.

* * *

He pressed his hands against the door, pushing with all his strength but it would not open. He kicked the screen behind him in frustration and turned back to the door that lead to Wendy. Peter had tried to open the door numerous times, sometimes as a light warning or because he just wanted to be as close as possibly but now he was desperate. He had approached the cave with noble intentions, hesitant with what he wanted to finally share with her but the door would still not open.

"You can't use my bloody island against me," he growled in annoyance, wondering yet again how she could do such a thing but focused all his attention on entering. She might have a formidable imagination and strength of will but she did not have magic and it was the one thing that Peter had held back. Now the wood splintered and bubbled under his hands and the door swung open with a blasting force.

He stepped through the door, blinking in the sudden light and took in his surroundings. He was in a wooded grove, birches and oaks in leaf and summer time was in full swing. Deserted tables and chairs stood in the clearing, empty wine glasses and paper cups littering every surface and rainbow coloured paper chains swung from one tree to another. Peter moved forward, looking back briefly to see that he had existed from an old garden shed, and stopped before a throne on a plinth. Familiarity gnawed at him. He remembered clearly the dream that he had once sneaked into. Wendy had been part of some coronation party, playing the part of queen with loyal female followers. She had clearly made it part of her fantasy but that was not the thing that needled him. As he moved between the tables, spotting paper lanterns and shattered light bulbs under his feet he realised what it was; this was not Wendy's coronation celebration but her 17th birthday party. It was an attempt to remember.

It was long deserted. He walked through the trees, the sensation of dread he had once felt while moving through her dream absent, and came to the tree line. A huge sloping lawn of bright green grass lead to a humongous green house, sunlight glinting off the many windowpanes and he could just make out the plants within. He moved on, wondering why he had not been stopped yet, she must be aware that he was there but he reached the greenhouse and entered with no restriction. As expected the interior was humid and the heat enveloped him, as it did in Neverland. He was impressed at the detail, at the control she had over her creation, and felt a flare of pride. She _was _made for him.

"Come on Wendy-bird, stop hiding..." he muttered and then paused as something reached his ears. Music was faintly playing in the distance and he walked towards it, trying to decipher the words. He walked to the other side of the hothouse, which became less an exhibition of exotic plants but something more everyday, the glass walls seeming to shrink in around him. Ferns brushing against his legs and face he brushed them away and came to a stand still, staring at the foggy glass that made the view outside blurred but it was clearly another garden. He reached for the curling handles and pulled the doors open. The music that faintly drifted to him was much louder now but he only paid it half a mind as he stepped out.

It was an English garden in the height of summer, all neat lines, roses and perfectly cut grass that basked under a deep blue sky. Bees buzzed and birds sang sweetly and he could hear a water fountain gurgling at the back of the garden. Toys were scattered over the lawn, bikes and puzzles pieces under foot. His eyes lingered over these things but then he quickly looked up and focused on the house, which was just as perfect as the garden. French doors were open and he could see a bright conservatory within.

Peter took in the perfectly surreal sight before him before forcing himself to move on. Orchids of many kinds filled the room, the likes of which that could be found on his island growing wild but here they were neatly potted and labelled and as he inspected them he saw with confusion that the handwriting on the tags was his own. He straightened, something tight and squirming beginning to stir in his stomach but he ignored it and moved through the room and out into a corridor, the wistful music clear and loud, coming from a radio he thought.

_- someone took you out of my arms, still I feel the thrill of your charms. Lips that once were mine, tender eyes that shine..._

Peter shook his head, trying to make sense of it. Wendy spending her time in her fantasy camp, imaging herself queen and surrounded by supporters was what he expect to find, not this perfectly mundane, sickly sweet life. The woods and the hothouse had been incredibly detailed but this was so far beyond what he expected. This place, with it's dust motes dancing in sun beams and scuff marks on the floor was lived in and clearly cherished.

"She's been living another life," he thought aloud and that squirming feeling spiked with coldness, "_without me,_" he added bitterly through his teeth and he looked on the house with an increasing angry disgust. He had spent years alone, years leaving her in peace, hoping that she would forgive him but all the while she was doing this? She had told him that he had been unable to endure without her but she had because she had a life worth living. Was he worthless?

All the new faint hopes he had considered became fainter and less likely every second and as he glared around someone appeared at the end of the hallway and Peter coiled. He thought it would be Wendy and he was ready to unleash vitriol at her but it was not Wendy. It was a girl, a little blonde haired girl he had seen before but she appeared older. She did not seem shocked to see him, on the contrary she smiled as she raced passed him towards the garden, blowing him a kiss.

"Hello daddy!"

Peter stiffened, unable to comprehend what he had heard at first but as he did he spun around, eyes wide but the girl was gone. He could hear her singing softly, probably playing.

"What...?" he breathed, not able to voice anything else as it was the only word appearing in his head. Bewildered he made himself move until he reached the end of the hallway and looked up a flight of stairs. Behind him the front door was closed but he could hear traffic very faintly in the distance. Again the detail astonished him, the world seemed to have a life all of it's own and a coldness that had nothing to do with his sense of betrayal settled in his gut.

From above laughter sounded and it was Wendy. Hearing that snapped him out of his uncomfortable daze and he began climbing the stairs but then raced up them, teeth bared. He burst into a room and all the disgust, all the confusion and astonishment was blasted away as he was met with an impossible sight. Standing before him was a man holding a baby and that man was _him_.

"Peter!" Wendy cried, springing up from her seat on the bad but he barely heard her. He could not look away from the older vision of himself, unable to ignore the thing in the bundle he – _no it_ – was holding but as Wendy jumped to her feet the baby and the older version of Peter vanished. Wendy moved in front of him, face ashen and her eyes panicked and Peter snapped his eyes to her face and the look made her recoil. She was older, her true age and the sight of it sickened him. He grabbed hold of her arms suddenly, making her jump.

"_What_ are you doing? Was – was that _me?_"

Wendy said nothing, biting the inside of her lips and he could feel her shaking. Finally she nodded, tears in her eyes. "You were never meant to know. What are you _doing_ here?" she whispered in accusation and the horrible whirling feeling in Peter exploded.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK?" he shouted and the illusion that Wendy had surrounded her body with melted away like ice. She was young again but her eyes would never be, like his own. She pushed against his chest, trying to force him away, her shock now turning to wrath.

"GET OUT! HOW DARE YOU COME IN HERE!"

"How dare I?! You've been living like this, pretending we're older and together with a family _all this time_?" he hissed, shaking her slightly and Wendy's eyes blazed.

"Yes! How else did you expect me to live? You think I'd become like you? Sulk like a child because I didn't get what I truly wanted? I made this for myself, I made the life I wanted," she explained more calmly but he was losing control.

"A life without me!"

"No! You've always been here," she said desperately and he dropped his hands in disgust. "I tried to imagine a life without you but I couldn't!"

Peter shook his head, jaw clenching repeatedly. "That was not me! That ridiculous _thing_ only exists in your imagination, he's not real but I am! You know I came here wanting to start over, to share what I could with you but I shouldn't have bothered. This house and those fucking children disgust me."

Wendy slapped him with such force that he stumbled back, startled at the show of strength. She was furious, her eyes burning with something close to hate and something in Peter wilted even as he flushed with a terrible angry lust.

"Do you know what this is?!" she yelled, angry tears in her eyes. "This was the life I wanted for us! The life we talked about in the tunnels! I battled against this for so long, tried to ignore my wants and needs but I couldn't, I _wouldn't_! I love you, I love you so much but you can never give me what I want."

She slumped, tears spilling down her cheeks but Peter would not comfort her, he was stinging with reproach and a deeply hidden hurt. It was unfair, being exposed to it all. He had considered this life more then he was willing to admit but it was an opportunity and time long gone. How could Wendy be so deluded? This was about more then his sense of betrayal, she was in danger and she could not see it.

"This is all fake, none of it is real. You might feel happy now but soon the hollowness of this little fantasy will start to carve you out from the inside and you won't be able to withstand it. It will drive you mad," he whispered seriously and fear flickered in Wendy's eyes but then she tilted her head, considering him with a fragile hope.

"It doesn't have to be hollow, it can be real. Stay with me," she asked in a small wavering voice and Peter blinked.

"Stay?" he stared around at the room. It was one that he was familiar with, one he used to wake in with Wendy beside him in the bed but it had never felt like _his_, it was always Wendy's. The island was her home, he made sure of that, and now he felt she was as rooted and inseparable from it as he was but he realised that he was no more than a visitor in this side of their relationship, this huge part of Wendy's life. It was not right and he knew that it had to change, that he had to surrender until he was granted every aspect of her. But this domestication? Children? Adulthood? She was asking for the impossible. At the shifting expressions on Peter's face, that blended from consideration to disgust, Wendy gazed at him with a wary acceptance, one tinged with derision.

"Stupid question. You are the most selfish, self centred person I have ever met. As if you could consider the needs and concerns of someone else," she gazed at him with heavy lidded judgement and attempted to brush past him but he grabbed her arm and tugged her close to him and she bristled.

"I didn't give you an answer."

"You didn't have to," she said, inches from his face. Their proximity made both of them breathe heavily, eyes flicking from angry eyes to parted lips. Peter strained against her, taut with the need to resist, to deny the effect she had on him while another more pressing part wanted to push her down and tear her clothes off, ripping the world down around them as he did so until it was just them left in the ruins.

Savage desire flamed in his eyes and Wendy could not tear her gaze away, breath caught in her throat. If she made a move, if she touched him he would ignite and leave nothing standing, so great was his frustrated need. His desire was reflected back at him, he could see it in her eyes, in the heave of her chest against his arm but she started to pull back slowly and then all at once, ripping herself free.

"No!" she shook her head as he came forward but stilled. Her eyes looked half crazed, something almost spare in them and it stopped him in his track. He was wound tight with tension, his shoulders hunched and hands fisted but he began to stare at her with an exposed and vulnerable expression she had seen only fleetingly. He had never cared enough to feel worried about the welfare of another person but Wendy was not any person.

"I meant it when I said this place will drive you mad. You spend any more time here and you'll start to lose yourself and I won't have that. I know what you think of me and I know you're right. But I know what I feel for you, there is nothing I am more sure about. You know more about me then I do at this point and you know me well enough to guess how that makes me feel. But I don't care, I need you and I won't spend another day without you. So you either take my hand and leave with me or I will burn it all down where we stand," he threatened, offering her a hand.

"It's not yours to destroy," she said in a shaking voice, eyeing his hand with conflict. She gazed around the room, tears in her eyes and from downstairs he could hear children running and talking animatedly. His stomach twisted and this time not with disgust. In some life, in some other universe those girls downstairs would have been theirs and it shook him to his core.

"I can't give you this," he said gently, "but I can give you something else."

"What?" she asked tiredly.

"Me. I love you, completely," he admitted, using the words that she had once confessed long ago in a soft voice. He meant it with everything he had, from the tiny slivers of light in his heart to the billowing darkness. His heart was hers. Wendy stared at him, mouth parting in surprise and her already tear filled eyes spilled over.

"But your heart, the spinsters -"

"Forget what they told you. I have never, _ever_ felt this way about anyone. I thought it was impossible, I thought it would fade but it has just increased and I know it will grow. I might not love like you but I love you in the only way I can and – and I'm sorry for that," he admitted, struggling to get the words out. It was the only apology she would get for Rufio, for lying about the cure and every pain he had inflicted on her. "Just come with me and we'll start over."

"If you're lying -"

"I'm not," he assured her, gaze steady and fierce and Wendy swallowed. The world around them started to flicker as Wendy battled with her decision. The sky outside transformed, shifting from blue sky to rain clouds, from dawn to dusk and all around them the years that Wendy had spent dreaming floated around them like ghosts. Peter saw babies learning to crawl, snatches of lullabies, the echo of laugher and night times tears, children's new shoes and hair ribbons and the quiet noise of two people making love. It was bursting with love, every thread and thumbed page was adored but at heart there was an emptiness. The world faded away until all that was left was Wendy sat and staring at her sad reflection in a mirror.

The room was the only thing that remained, all traces if her other life was now gone and she sat with her back to him, weeping quietly. He watched her back heave, her knuckles growing white as she dug her fingers into the seat before focusing on her stricken face in the glass. She was stripped raw, as vulnerable as she had been when she learned the truth of her parent's demise and he knew he had to tread carefully. He sat on the bed behind her, not touching but a constant presence. Tears and sadness were something that produced a horrible squirming feeling in him because they were things that he could not control but he sat and soaked in her grief until she was ready to talk to him.

"They were called Jane and Margaret," she uttered gutturally, wiping the back of her hand over her cheeks. "They weren't real but they were mine and – and that was their names."

Peter said nothing, just nodded but his hands fisted the bed. They sat in silence, Wendy slowly gaining control of herself until she peered at her drained face and sighed, eyes flicking to his reflection.

"Don't you sometimes look in the mirror and feel surprised at the face that looks back at you?"

"All the time," he remarked with a light arrogance and this produced a tiny smile from her. Peter leaned forward as Wendy turned around to face him. She was still emotionally drained but he knew that was better then turning into a ghost, a shadow of who she once was.

"I want to show you something," he said and felt a swoop of nerves as he did. His anxiety must be visible on his face because she leaned forward with a frown and touched her cool fingertips to his forehead. Peter sighed at the touch.

"What is it?"

"I want to take you to my Thinking Tree."

"Why?" she asked and Peter licked his lips, jaw clenching.

"Because it holds the only clues I have to my past, before I came to Neverland. I – I've been avoiding it for years but I think it's time. Will you come with me?"

His question was light but the vulnerability rang clear. The reason no one had seen his tree was because he was to distrustful, paranoid and to _scared_ to show it to anyone, to share something that was so personal but now he was ready. Wendy considered him and she began to stare with such love that he felt relief shake through him.

"Of course," she whispered and laced her fingers through his as he gently pulled them to their feet and for the first time in years Wendy left her cave and when night fell she did not return.

* * *

**_a.n:_**

_Hi guys! This update took longer than usual and it will continue to go like that. But I'll try to update once a week regularly. _

_Hope you enjoyed this chapter and the shift in their relationship, I thought it was time._


	11. 1940 - 45

The Thinking Tree was a throw back to an earlier time in Neverland, when the island was not a steaming jungle but instead an ancient wood with dappled glades of birch, ash and elder. When Peter first stepped foot on Neverland and shaped it to his desire he could only imagine what he was familiar with but over time, as he travelled to far flung places and peeked into the dreams of children from other worlds, the influence transmuted the island. Soon there was no sign that the island had once been different, expect for one tree.

It wasn't the surreal sight of an English oak tree growing amidst banana plants and bamboo but the size of it. The oak was _gargantuan_, it's massive bulk stretching up and up until its canopy was lost in mist. It's wide, leafy boughs grew outwards, twisting around each other to form clumps of dense branches and leaves. The ground was cast in deep, dappled shadow, islands of darkness that swayed as the tree creaked in a light breeze. It was too large to be real.

"How did I miss this?" Wendy breathed, open mouthed, as she craned her head back. The wondrous sight of the tree almost overshadowed her present grief but there was a persistent dull throb in her chest, like a piece of her heart had been removed and she felt haunted by the ragged loss.

"No one can find it, I've made sure of that. I've been avoiding it," he confessed. He was standing some distance away, hesitant to get any closer and Wendy noticed that scorch marks covered the lower trunk. She touched her fingers to the sooty ash.

"You tried to burn it?"

"And failed. Like the Never Bird it remains," he said dryly and moved to her side. He stared up, gaze loosing focus. "I spent years and years here, adding more to it over time. I had nothing else to do, before the dreamers came," he shrugged and eyed her intensely with a strange half smile. "I was like you once."

"How so?"

"I'll show you," he whispered and took her hand. He lead her around the base of the tree, past an old swing that he pushed, and then up a rope ladder. They climbed up until they reached a platform that circled the trunk. Attached to it were swing bridges that stretched out in all direction before becoming lost in the mist. Some of them looked feeble, wooden planks missing and the ropes frayed. It made her feel wistful and yearn for her childhood. It was a neglected, still place but surrounded by a palpable sense of bygone days filled with play and laughter. It felt like the tree was waiting to be awoken.

_It feels like me..._she thought dazedly and that pain in her chest flared. Peter took her hand and lead her along one of the bridges, being careful as he stepped on the creaking boards. He could use magic but she knew that it was dwindling and he forgoes using it whenever he could. Now within the bulk of the tree Wendy could see shapes through the mist; swinging bridges connecting to small, empty tree houses. As she realised what the shapes were she saw more and more of them appearing through the mist and she stared at Peter wonderingly.

"People lived here with you?"

"...No," he answered after a long pause, his hand tightening on hers. "I just imagined that they did."

Wendy squeezed his hand, realising that the abandoned houses were not make believe but real. He had made them all, spending countless years building himself a world so he would not be alone. Pity twisted up inside her stomach as she realised how alike they had once been. She had endured four years but Peter?

"How long did you spend here?"

"I lost count," he replied quietly, not looking at her and stopped. Above them was the biggest tree house yet and though it was in the same state of desolation as the rest it was an awe inspiring sight. It was clear that time and care had gone into the construction of it but it was also apparent that the house had been created by a particularly imaginative child. Parapets, turrets and tall pointed roofs dominated, the useless chimneys twisted upwards in impossible shapes and the windows consisted of stained glass, depicting scenes from myths and legends she was familiar with. Some of the panes were missing or broken, roof tiles loose but the tree house was an impressive sight.

"It's beautiful," she breathed and he flashed a quick uncertain smile before leading her through the grand front door.

The interior was bare, in stark contrast to the busy exterior and again Wendy felt a pang of sympathy for him, for the boy he had once been. His room was large but only held a few items of note. There was a small bed, a cabinet for clothes, shelves filled with books and a writing table. On one wall was a map of Neverland and on the other a map depicting London, only this was centuries before her time. She traced her finger over the snaking Thames and felt such an intense pang of homesickness that tears sprang up in her eyes.

"I miss it," she admitted, eyes darting from one side of the map to the other. She knew her city, she knew the streets and parks but she could not name any of the places on it, though they were just on the tip of her tongue. She turned away, disappointed and found Peter standing inches from her. They had been apart for so long that his proximity made her pulse race and this time it was not with anger or fear.

"Lets get this over with," he grimaced and gently pulled her over to a trunk that was half hidden under the bed. He grabbed the end and dragged it out and then snapped his fingers to light candles that dotted the room. He then stood back, arms crossed over his chest as Wendy looked between him and the box. He said nothing, just watched her and leaned back against a wall, a smashed window to his right.

Wendy dropped to her knees and opened the trunk, holding her breath. Inside was nothing to recoil at, nothing wondrous or dreadful but what she saw made her smile softly. There was a cloak, shirts and old shoes, all fitting someone younger than the Peter standing in front of her. She picked up a roughly hewn wooden flute and saw that the bottom of the box was littered with small wooden figures. Toys. Peter was watching her with guarded interest, his eyes fixed on her face for any flicker of emotion. Everything she saw was normal, mundane; everything that Peter was not. She pulled out a leather bag and he tensed, leaning off the wall.

"What's in this?" she asked and he shrugged. He had not touched his old possessions for centuries. He had wanted to forget they were even there but he was unable to destroy them. He watched as she opened the bag and pulled out a bundle of papers bound with leather. Wendy froze when he jerked forward but paused, as if he was battling with the need to rip the pages out of her hands. She kept her gaze on his as she deftly untied the cords keeping the cover in place and leafs of paper fluttered onto her lap. She picked one up randomly and tore her gaze away from Peter's burning one to read.

_Bored. Started reshaping the coastlines for want of something to do. I think the mermaids are annoyed at me. It was just a game but I don't want to offend them, if they leave I'll have no one to talk to. I'll put it all back to normal tomorrow. _

_She told me not to go into the grove, she said not to venture in unless a fate worse than death befall me. But this is my island, not hers and I'll do what I want. I think she lies, she said she would return but it has been so long now. I know I shouldn't but I miss my moth - _

"Stop!" Peter suddenly injected and Wendy looked up, realising that she had been reading aloud. He was standing over her, face white and his jaw clenched. Wendy gazed at him sadly.

"Do you know who you were referring to? The one you thought lied to you?" she asked calmly as Peter continued to gaze at her in stony silence. "I think I know who it was, I think the Never Bird showed me. A woman dressed in blue, a fairy."

"Reul Ghorm. The Blue Fairy," he almost spat out the words, bitter hatred twisting his face. It was so malevolent that Wendy grew tense. But through that wrath was something else, something stark shinning cold in his eyes. Betrayal.

"You've never mentioned her," she whispered as Peter began to pace up and down.

"I made myself forget her, forget all of it. But I know she's at the heart of all this," he sneered. It seemed that Wendy had reopened a long forgotten wound and it was toxic.

Wendy nodded. "With the Never Bird I saw something, something from your past. You were at the cage, you weighted your heart and it balanced."

"I know this," he answered distractedly but Wendy pressed on.

"That woman, that fairy, never stepped foot inside the cage. The bird kills anything with an impure heart," Wendy thought aloud to herself as Peter stopped pacing. He stared into the distance, face scrunched up in concentration as he tried to remember.

"She said I had the Heart of the Truest Believer but she needed me to prove it. I made the island," he struggled to speak and sat down on the bed tiredly. "It's like trying to remember a dream, one I'd rather forget."

"Peter, if this woman tricked you, _lied_ to you then that is important. Maybe – maybe we can find a way to save you, to save us all," she stressed and leaned against his legs. He smiled darkly.

"No one can trick me," he said through his teeth but Wendy tilted her head.

"Maybe not now but I think this boy," she moved the bundle of pages in her hands, "this boy was. I saw you Peter, you looked about eleven or twelve, an impressionable age. How are you physically older now?" she had seen a preteen but now he was on the cusp of adulthood.

"I don't know, I don't remember!" he groaned and she dropped it. They had years to work through it, years to read his journal but she knew it would not be easy. One day he may hide the tree, these possessions from her and she would never see them again. This was like scraping away at him and exposing a nerve. She had to be careful.

She looked through the bag, fingers brushing over small objects and closed her fist around them. In her palm, surrounding by fragments of old, dry leaves were acorns, an old tarnished thimble and an equally tarnished locket. She tried to prise the locket open but it was sealed shut with the years. She held it up for Peter to see but he was looking away.

"Put it back," he said quietly, in a tone of voice she had hardly ever heard. It was not a demand, he was not angry but unnerved. She did as he requested. She put the items back, along with the journal and shut the lid over them. She remained on her knees before him and he gazed down at her, more at ease.

"Do you remember your mother?" she asked without thinking and he tensed.

"...a little," was all he said, his mouth twisting but then he spoke again, the words bursting from him. "I hated her as much as she hated me," he snarled but the words caught in his throat. Wendy gazed at him calmly, refusing to let his shocking words faze her.

"And your father?"

He shrugged and they fell into a silence. He leaned forward and brushed his fingers through her hair, twining the tresses around his fingers. Her heart started to beat hard and fast as the distaste in his gaze turned into longing which quickly intensified into something desperate. He cupped her face and lowered his head against hers, eyes burning into hers.

"Promise me you'll never do that again."

"What?"

"Leave," he breathed against her lips and Wendy shook her head.

"I won't if you never give me reason to."

She lifted a hand and very gently brushed her fingertips over his face, tracing his features. She missed touching him, missed these quiet moments when it was just them and nothing else mattered. All thoughts of his past, of the cave or the island were gone. He drew her up into his arms, standing and she wrapped her arms around his neck. They held each other, feeling the heat and beat of their bodies, trying to press as much as they could together. The first kiss was an accident, a soft bump of lips as their faces got too close and they drew back before giving each other short, darting kisses. The hesitant touches belied the tumultuous need they both felt, the frustration of years pent up, especially in Peter who felt like he could drown her if he let go. He moved her around slowly, his hands rubbing along her back and sides, feeling the heat of her skin through her dress. Her mouth parted and she pressed her mouth against his firmly and he responded at once, lips moving against her with an increasing roughness until they kissed open mouthed, tongues tasting each other.

Peter groaned and the small bed that had once been made for one shifted into something big enough for two. He pushed her down and she pulled at his clothes, wanting his bare skin pressed against her but she did not want to stop kissing him. Finally they broke away for air and pulled each others clothes off until they were naked. He settled between her spread legs, resting on his arms and let his weight fall on her for moment, wanting every part of him to touch her. Wendy warped her arms around him, hands on his back and she lifted her knees up and bucked below him. He sucked in a breath and stared at her with a teasing light before kissing her with a tenderness that surprised him. She was back in his arms and accepting him back into her life as long as he agreed to share all the dark, shadowy parts of his soul but also those forgotten shining, bright fragments too. He had thought when they finally reconciled he would take her in a frenzy, mark her in a way so that she never escaped him again but now it felt different. She was his, he was hers and nothing would jeopardise that again; _he would not_.

They made love slowly, savouring the act and taking their time to make sure that they were both satisfied. He glided his hands over every part of her body, leaving kisses in the wake of his touch before turning her over to kiss her from heel to neck. He whispered into her ear, making her laugh and gasp and she did things to him that had him practically beg on his knees, leaving him to stare at her in awe and plead for more. Wendy smiled in amusement at the naked want in his eyes but she was constantly caught out by another look, before would surface fleetingly and if she was lucky she caught it but now he gazed at her with love that never faltered. It was not gentle, it was not pure or healthy, it was dark, dangerously intense and perverse but every twisted part of his heart was hers. She whispered that she loved him as she touched him, whispering that he was the only one and whatever happened he always would be and he choked out her name, loosing control under her as she worked him into a frenzy until he could take no more. He pushed her onto her back and took her hard and fast until they screamed each others names. Sated he pulled her into his arms and she curled her body against him, both exhausted. They breathed heavily, sweat coating their skin and matted hair and for the first time in years both felt true contentment.

* * *

Years passed and it was an era of peace in Neverland. The inner turmoil that had plagued Peter was now quietened and the island reflected that back at everyone. The skies were clear, the sun rose and set and the tides swept in and out. Peter Pan's followers were deeply thankful that the separation had been resolved and that Wendy Darling was back but those who had been there the longest, those that had experienced a time before Wendy and Peter's obsession with her felt a disquiet in their darkening hearts. But the demise of Slightly still hung over them and they knew better then to make a comment that would get them killed or worse.

Felix, taciturn by nature, was not prone to questioning Peter at every turn but was not shy about voicing doubts or suggestions. If he thought it was needed for the betterment of them all he would advise, as was his official position within the camp, and Peter had grown to trust his judgement. He was as relieved as any when the rain stopped and Wendy made her first appearance in the camp after years away but he could not ignore the pit of irritation he felt when he saw her. He had never, in all the years he had known him, seen Peter so affected by another person, so _helpless _and it was putting them all in jeopardy. He had talked him out of getting a cure for Wendy as taking a fairy heart came with a heavy price, one that not even Peer could avoid but he had c_onsidered_ it and that was unthinkable. They were there to help Peter restore the waning magic that was being sapped away from Neverland and for centuries they had done that with a steely focus. It was different now. They had already seen how distracted, how _unravelled_ he could become at just being separated from her that Felix shuddered to think what would happen if she ever died.

_Neverland would crumble away into the sea, taking us all with her. Peter would be the only one left standing, alone again._

The morbid thought flashed through his mind but he did not linger on it. He stared across at Wendy as she sat beside Peter, the bonfire blazing before them. She had always been deeply introspective, lost in her own thoughts and he knew it was a trait they shared but since venturing out of her cave something was decidedly different about her. When she first came to Neverland she had been bright, vivacious and naïve and that spirit had turned into a deadly determination as she had once tried to escape and succeeded. She had fire and Peter loved playing with it but now...

_It's like half of her is still back in that cave_, he considered as she gave a thousand yard stare into the flames, like some mourning Delphic figure. She was more reserved, a colder person than she had been and he could understand why but the dreamy, vacant gaze he often saw made him feel something he only felt at weak moments: pity. _Has she got to me too?_ He thought dryly and then looked down at his drink when he caught Peter's watchful eye. Peter trusted him but who knew how taut that was concerning Miss Darling. He never lingered around her, never spoke to her more then was necessary and she seemed perfectly content with that. She knew the danger as well as he did.

But he knew for all his reserve and ill feelings he would give his life for her if it meant Peter's continued existence. Too much was relying on Peter's success and if Felix had to make sacrifices then he would. Neverland was his whole world and everyone on it was under his care and that included Wendy.

_But Jesus, how much easier it would be if she just disappeared one day and no one knew or cared._

* * *

Wendy blew out the candle flame, watching the shadow as it swooped around outside the tree house, and then turned from the window. Peter would often send it to check up on her but since leaving the cave she had only ventured back a few times. She had the room she created for herself but the temptation to bring to life that old fantasy was too great. Here she was preoccupied with another life: Peter's. The pages that he had wrote on aeons ago were spread out over the writing desk and she swept them into a pile. She had hoped they would give her some insight into Peter and while she now knew more about him then she ever had she was still frustratingly nowhere near figuring it out. So many pages were missing, great chunks of years never written or omitted and so she only had what was before her to go on.

Peter was hesitant to learn what she knew, only requesting information that was pressing to their present situation but anything else she was to keep to herself. Wendy brushed her fingertips gently over the pages, a soft smile curling her mouth. Peter did not want to know that once he had been a human boy, though not one like any other. He had always been different, always been unique but once his heart was pure and _powerful_. Brimming with belief and unburdened by adult cares he had shaped his island as easily as she rearranged the room she was in. But soon his loneliness overtook his exhilaration and his desperation seeped onto every page and it filled her up like gas. She did not want to take on a pain that was centuries old but she knew that fear of being alone was something that haunted him. But it was _his_ fear, not hers.

Wendy had been confused by his changing age but now it was obvious. He had found a way to leave the island, unable to take the solitude and frightened of losing his mind he had escaped. He had come back older and stayed and _that_ was the mystery now. But it was more than just solving a puzzle. The more she read, the more access to his unfiltered thoughts and feelings the harder she fell for him. She was falling in love with him all over again, falling for a person that was now buried under years of corruption and torment and she must stop. She had fallen in love with a dream once, her pretend children and home, and it had taken a part of her with it when it faded away. The boy on the page was no more than a ghost.

Wendy carefully placed the journal on a shelf and turned towards the bed and froze. The round room was set with three windows, all stained glass depicting seascapes. Now there was _four_. She blinked, unsure and stepped forward. Sometimes things would appear suddenly; trees, boats and even people that winked away as soon as you saw them. Peter called them left over dreams but the strange window did not disappear. She cocked her head, familiarity gnawing her as she hovered her fingers over the image depicted on one side of the casement window. It was a city.

"I know this place," she whispered to herself, about to touch the clock tower when the window suddenly burst open and she was thrown to the floor. What happened next was over in the span of a minute. A large dog bounded out of the open window, followed by two men who jumped into the room. Wendy grabbed the sword she had slung over the bed post and jumped to her feet, brandishing the weapon as the dog barked madly.

"Who are you!?" she shouted as the men straightened and looked at her. Their mouths fell open and tears sprang up in the eyes of the eldest man, the smallest, while the taller one with spectacles just grinned at her, overjoyed. Even the dog was crying, straining on the leash towards her. However when they saw the sword pointing steadily at them their overwhelmed expressions of delight dimmed.

"It's us," the eldest man said, hand to his chest and the man with glasses nodded. But Wendy shook her head, backing away towards the door.

"I've never seen either of you in my life," she stressed. "Who are you and how did you get in here?"

"Wendy! It's John and Michael!" the youngest said desperately and moved towards her but she lifted the sword higher and he stopped.

"Who?" she asked, feeling a scrabbling anxiety because the names were familiar. Her sword wavered.

"Your brothers," the short man said and he looked so devastated that something in Wendy cracked.

_Her brothers?_ She only had the faintest recollection of them and sometimes there would go years where she forgot that she even had siblings. But she did know one thing: Michael was the youngest and John the eldest and these two were proclaiming the opposite. The short one calling himself Michael should be the youngest, she was sure of it but he was in his mid thirties while the man in glasses was in his early twenties. They were trying to trick her.

"Liars! Who are you really?"

The man in glasses looked appalled but his mouth quickly thinned in anger. "We're telling you the truth. We will explain everything in time but first you must come with us," he said firmly and moved towards her. She thrust her sword at him and he stumbled back, gasping.

"That was a warning. I will not hesitate next time," she stated dangerously and both men looked like there were in a nightmare. The small gentle looking one pointed at the large old dog.

"It's Nana, surely you remember her?"

"A dog, one easily procured," she shrugged but avoided looking at the soulful canine eyes gazing up at her. The man in glasses growled and suddenly sprang forward and grabbed her wrists. The sword clattered to the floor as she yelped in pain.

"I'm sorry but we don't have time for this. We said we'd get you out and then kill that bastard!"

"You want to kill Peter?! You're from the Home Office aren't you!?" she yelled. Peter had told her about the organisation that wanted to kill him, who were from her old world, but the threat had come to nothing. The man's eyes widened in surprise but he quickly became harsh.

"We've made it our life's mission to destroy Pan and this dreadful place!" he snarled, struggling to hold her but at these words she suddenly turned into a wild thing. She kicked at him, scratched his face and he shrunk back in pained surprise. Now unrestrained she punched his nose and kicked him in the stomach with such force that he hit the wall, winding him. It was clear that they expected no resistance and were slow to react. As the eldest man came at her, palms up, she turned and pulled her concealed dagger free and swung the blade quickly through the air. Blood poured from his head, she had cut him shallowly along the forehead.

"For God's sake! Grab her! Knock her out if you have to!" the man in glasses wheezed, doubled over.

"She's insane!" the bleeding man said. Despite his wound and gentle eyes he disarmed her with movements of a trained solider, spun her around and wrapped his arms around her so she couldn't move. He picked her up and forced her through the window with him as she screamed and kicked her heels back. Wendy, now hyperventilating, watched as the man in glasses, now with a bloody nose and scratches, left the howling dog tied to the bed post before helping to pull her struggling body through the window. In shock but still full of fight Wendy inhaled and screamed with all her might.

"PETER!"

A hand hastily covered her mouth as the window closed but it was too late. Her scream echoed out of the tree house and through the island but instead of fading it grew louder and louder until every single inhabitant of Neverland clapped their hands over their heads as her panicked cry rang in their ears.

Then the island started to shake.


	12. The Realm Room

Lying on his back Jefferson gazed into the inky blackness above, ruminating the vast and delicate mysterious of his hat – _the axis mundi of the multiverse by any other name_ – and imagined with a soft smile showing his daughter the doors to all creation when she was old enough. Her mother would argue but it was Grace's birthright. With these thoughts chasing through his mind he bolted upright when his strange guests struggled back through the window from Neverland.

"GET OFF ME! PETER! PETER!" a girl screamed, struggling in Michael's arms as John slammed the window closed. Michael had a hand over her mouth, trying to muffle her, but he yelled in pain when she bit him and he dropped her.

Jefferson stared at them in bewilderment, taking in the brothers present state. John was doubled over, trying to breathe and he had claw marks on his cheek. Michael was a dreadful sight, his face pouring with blood but he ignored the head wound and focused on the girl now crouched on the floor. Her stance was low, poised to attack and her eyes blazed. He had thought for a second that Pan had done this to them but it was the girl. There was something unmistakably feral about her and despite her size he could believe she had inflicted so much damage on two grown men. She was with Pan, what else could he expect?

"This is your sister?"

"Yes..." Michael said but he hesitated before answering, eyes flicking to his brother. They shared a brief look of uncertainty.

"You're not my brothers!" she hissed, wavering on her feet. She was sweating, breathing heavily but then they all were. She started to back away towards the window but John lunged forward and threw her out into the centre of the Realm Room. She skidded on the shiny dark floor and Jefferson could see her eyes taking in the doors around her in confusion. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head hard once, as if to shake off a dream.

"Wendy it's us," Michael reasoned, a handkerchief to his forehead. "I know it's hard to believe, I know we don't appear as we should, but I swear on our parents graves that we're telling the truth."

Wendy blinked, licking her lips, and her eyes flicked from one brother to the other. "Don't swear on them, don't swear on dead things," she croaked with a grimace. "You're from the Home Office, you're – you're Peter's enemy."

"Yes, we are," John explained, circling her slowly, coming closer but she backed away every time, still poised to attack. "Everything we've done has been for you, everything we've worked towards has been to save you," he said softly and began to smile, a flickering thing that suddenly bloomed beatifically over his face. Michael smiled too, his face a gruesome red mess, but joy beamed off him in waves.

Wendy shook her head, hand fisting her hair. "You said you wanted to destroy him..." she narrowed her eyes dangerously, suddenly very still and Jefferson shifted, uneasy.

"We won't rest until he's dead at our feet," Michael said quietly, eyes like steel and the Hatter could see the solider in him, the one willing to kill.

"To avenge you and our family!" John added passionately and then held out a hand in supplication. "We will make him pay and then you can put this whole awful business behind you. You can move on, we all can," he finished gently. If he and Michael thought their promises to kill Peter Pan would ease their sister – if she even was – than they were surely mistaken.

"I don't know what game you're playing but - but I won't be part of it," she whispered, struggling to speak. "Your words mean nothing...you all mean _nothing_ to me," she uttered in a calm, cold tone and the men stiffened. "If you try to hurt Peter I will stand in your way. You'll have to kill me first."

At this heavy proclamation there was a ringing silence, both brothers staring at the young woman – _but no girl has eyes like those, too knowing_ – with a dawning horror, aghast. John was the first to speak, the words bursting out of him.

"WHAT?! HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?" he shouted but then his anger flicked instantly into dread. "God, I think you must have," he breathed, almost close to tears. Michael just stared at Wendy with a strange miserable understanding.

"We're sorry Wendy, we left you there too long."

"Not long enough," she muttered, wavering on her feet. Her eyes darted feverishly around the room, no longer confused but cunning. Jefferson knew what she was about to do the moment she spun on her heel but by the time he shouted she had already run through one of the doors.

"WENDY!" the brothers yelled and ran after her, not bothering to enquire what strange world they were about to burst into. Jefferson sighed and followed them; they wouldn't get far.

* * *

The arched door was framed by two stone sphinxes, giving the impression that they were standing guard and set above the arch was a round talisman: two snakes entwined, an ouroboros and below that these words inscribed: _Do What You Wish_. None of these objects made an impression on the Darling's but when they crashed through into the world beyond all conflict and torment was momentarily forgotten.

They were standing on a rock floating in space, a vast stretch of dark matter that was littered with other rocks and debris. It was as if they had appeared after some terrible cosmic cataclysm and the ruins drifting past were all that was left.

"Welcome to Fantasia, or what's left of it," Jefferson said behind them and they all turned. He was leaning casually against tone of the stone sphinxes, apparently pleased by their awed expressions. Wendy was the first to break out of the spell the devastated realm had settled over them. She was shaking, in shock and felt like her head was about to split open.

"You – you have to take...take me...back," she struggled to get the words out, her mouth suddenly very dry. Her vision swam and she felt incredibly light headed, nausea rising, and with a groan she lifted an arm to her kidnappers. The dot of poison on her skin, once no more then a pinprick, was spreading but she could not speak, could not warn them. Her teeth clamped shut as bouts of pain roared through her and her legs buckled.

John caught her quickly, staring at her pale and sweaty face in concern. "Wendy? Wendy?"

"What's wrong with her?" Michael asked as John picked Wendy up into his arms. "She needs medical attention." He reached for his hip but the bag filled with portal beans was missing. "Damn it! I must have dropped them."

Wendy's eyes rolled under the lids and she breathed raggedly, like her throat was restricted. The awful sound filled up the unnatural silence of the place and they could not bare it. Michael looked at Jefferson desperately.

"Help us."

"I'm not a doctor!"

"The spinsters!" John shouted and Michael nodded vigorously. Without a backwards glance they hurried back through the arch, into the Realm Room. Jefferson lead them quickly back to the window to Neverland but tapped on the side of the window that depicted London. It was dark, just a faint glow illuminated, unlike the scene that depicted the island which was vibrant with light and colour.

"I can only travel to worlds that have magic."

"What good is that to us?" John fumed before staring down at Wendy's face. He was terrified.

"Your land once had magic, that's why there's two sides to the window, it's always been connected. Now there's no magic but once..." he tapped the glass and the dull glow pulsed like a heartbeat, steadily growing brighter until the window shone. It was not as bright as Neverland – even that was losing it's gleam - but it was shining.

"Take us back three hundred years, take us back to a time before that demon boy ever set foot in Neverland," Michael said through his teeth and John stared at him with a harsh determination as the window was opened and the brothers rushed through it. Michael turned before it was closed and grasped Jefferson's hand, handing over the rest of his wages.

"What are you planning to do?"

"Kill him before he has the chance to destroy lives, kill him and undo everything that has happened. If we succeed no one will have heard the name Peter Pan, it will be like he never existed," with that said he inclined his bloody head and walked away and Jefferson closed the window. He stepped back, sack of money forgotten in his hand.

Meddling with time was something that he had the power to do and something that, for the right price, he would consider but in the shut off, neglected part of himself that listened to reason he knew what they planned was terrible. The repercussions, the ripple effects that spanned over three centuries would be felt in all worlds. No amount of money was worth that. Jefferson sighed and looked down, debating whether he should follow and stop them, when a noise made him turn. Something was _cracking_ and his gaze swept over the Neverland window. He froze, blood running cold before solidifying into ice.

Fine hairline splinters were shooting through the glass and on the other side was a dark figure. He had his hands pressed against the window, fingers sprayed over the image of the island, and the stained glass was cracking from the pressure. Peter Pan was trying to break into the Realm Room and that was _impossible_.

* * *

The dog barked ferociously, straining on her leash towards them, dragging the heavy bed but they ignored her. A strange nursery window was fading from the wall but Peter lifted a hand and made a tight fist, stopping the window from disappearing. Felix could see the effort on his face; magic was fading and large shows of it was something that Peter avoided but now he was channelling everything he had.

Felix could still hear her scream ringing in his ears, a shrill panicked sound that made him shiver and his heart race. But his discomfort was nothing next to Peter's. His shoulders were hunched, his back muscles tense and stiff and every time he clenched his fists the ground trembled. Felix had known Peter for a long time, had been on the island almost as long as he had but he had never seen him so anxious, so close to snapping.

"What – what happened?" Felix asked, noting that a small draw string bag was beside his foot and he leaned down for it. Inside magic beans slid together.

"They've taken her, her _brothers,_" Peter snarled through his teeth and the massive tree shuddered. Felix had once seen the Thinking Tree from a distance but had never been inside, knowing that it was something too personal for Peter to share. He thought Wendy as part of that excluded group but a lot had changed over the years. Peter snatched the beans from Felix but the taller boy stopped him, hand on his wrist, and Peter's eyes flashed dangerously. Peter was controlled but he was also mercurial and at that second balancing on a knife edge. Felix inhaled, calming himself, and dropped his hand.

"I'll go. They probably want to lure you out, using her as bait. They won't expect me. I'll get her back." Felix stared into his leader's feral green eyes and saw a confusing flash of rage, jealousy, uncertainty and finally denial.

"She's mine, I have to get her back. Do you understand? She'll die," he choked on the words and the sky outside flickered with white hot bolts of lightning and rumbling groans of thunder went on and on, never abating.

"I'll save her. I know what she means to you but...but your place is here," he stated softly and Peter's eyes flashed as his presumption but Felix pressed ahead. He had seen the damage that had been inflicted when Peter left Neverland for Wendy Darling once before and he would not see it happen again. "Most of the boys here are loyal but we both know that there is unrest. If you leave I fear they'll be another mutiny."

"What do I care for them?" he shrugged, pacing up and down, careful to avoid the growling dog. Felix, usually so calm and reasonable because he's had to be, felt a flare of indignation.

"The Lost Boys are _family_, the only one that matters, that's what we've always said," he whispered and something cruel and dismissive appeared in Peter's eyes. His mouth curled, his jaw working from side to side as if he was tasting the hurtful words that wanted to come of his mouth. But then he looked at the night gown that Wendy had placed over the bed and he paled.

"Her life is at stake, do you understand? There is no room for failure."

"I won't fail you."

"You better not. You talked me out of getting the cure, if she dies this rests on your head, do you understand?" he was no longer Peter, no longer his leader or even his friend but something else, something wicked and heartless. He _had_ talked Peter out of taking a fairy heart because to do so comes with a terrible curse. But Felix knew that truly Peter was talked out of nothing. He wanted Wendy Darling on the island by any means necessary and so trapped her like a bird in a cage, the poison in her veins the bars. It was only now that his selfishness, his ruthless possessive nature had come back to hurt him and he needed someone to blame. He never considered that Peter could feel guilt over anything or anyone but then he never believed him capable of love.

"I did it to protect you, it's all I've ever done."

"Not at her expense, not any more. The only reason that a threat of mutiny exists it because of you! You turned those boys against her, poisoned them as surely as Slightly did Wendy. This is down to you," he was furious and for the first time in centuries Felix feared for his life. Felix had created a propaganda against Wendy because he had no other option. With Peter in London the boys had started to feel abandoned and that had quickly turned into resentment. Felix had directed their ire at Wendy rather than Peter. Most of those Lost Boys were either dead now or forgotten but the resentment against Wendy was still a latent undercurrent that ran through the group.

"I'll make this right, you have my word. I'll save her and I'll stop them," he stressed, pouring what little feeling he had for the bird girl and was surprised at the deep but hidden affection that suddenly rose in him. Peter stared intensely at him, judging harshly but he could not hide his fear. Peter was always in control but Wendy's fate was no longer in his hands and the uncertainty was unravelling him.

"First we have to find her," he looked at the window and he snarled. "Hatter..."

* * *

"Stop!" Jefferson shouted in panic as the window started to flex and the circular walls surrounding him rippled like water. Peter lifted his hand from the glass and beckoned Jefferson to come closer. Feeling like he was approaching his own gallows the Hatter did so until he was standing opposite the window. Pan was faint, almost ghostlike, but Jefferson could feel the malevolence rolling off him. His features were distorted by the coloured glass but his eyes shone like green flame as he spoke.

"Where is she?" his voice was quiet, like was he was whispering from the other end of a ballroom. He should not be able to see him, let alone speak to him and Jefferson suspected that a lot of magic was being used to accomplish what should be impossible.

"She's gone, they took her back to their world," he was not without honour and well, he was not strictly lying. On the other side of the window Pan banged his fist against the glass and the entire Realm Room shuddered. He had heard once that this cruel, tyrannical boy had once imagined an entire realm into being and now he believed it. If he destroyed the hat the reoccupations would be unthinkable.

"You're lying! If you don't tell me where she is I'll break through and _make you tell me_," he threatened and Jefferson paled.

"Fine! They _have_ taken her back to their world but back in time. They're taking her to the seer sisters. She looked sick."

"Why back in time?" he asked but his voice sounded oddly weak.

"To a time when there was magic...they – they're planning to murder you."

"I gathered," Pan answered offhandedly and then turned away from the window. Jefferson could not hear what he was saying but he could make out a second shadowy figure standing behind Pan. Finally he turned back to Jefferson and his gaze was so viciously predatory that the Hatter felt his legs grow weak. Pan gazed on him thoughtfully, tilting his head before speaking.

"You're a father now, aren't you? I've kept my eye on you Jeff, there's no point denying it," he said and moved closer to the window. "For your part in this I'm going to make it my mission to ensure that your child knows no mother or father. When I'm finished she'll be an orphan just like you."

He vanished from the window and it started to fade away and the hat almost seemed to sigh with relief. Jefferson stood unmoving, staring vacantly at the space where the window had been. The money bag in his slack grasp fell to his feet and with a sudden roar he kicked it and the coins spilled out and rolled over the swirling gold and black patterned floor.

* * *

**_a.n:_**

_Felix to the rescue!_


End file.
